


Beginnings

by orphan_account



Series: The Void's Silence [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodswap, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certain trolls meet and begin to realize their purpose in the grand scheme of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> After reading through Homestuck to the gigapause, I naturally began to discover the wonderful world that was fan fiction, and though I found myself initially dismayed as to see that most of the transformative work was under-thought, uninspired, and quite frankly, utterly pointless except for a person to revel in his or her own fan-based orgiastic stupidity, I read Red Dead Virgo. For those of you who don't know, Red Dead Virgo is a blood-swap story, in which the trolls are shifted across the hemospectrum. Basically, in lay-man's terms, the trolls retain the same personality, intelligence, etc. but get drastically different life experiences, and then the story develops from there. As such, Red Dead Virgo is perhaps the best example of a blood-swap, and ultimately influenced me to write this story. But there is another thing that I find interesting. While fully explaining the rules and parameters of a Sburb/Sgrub game, Hussie has declined to show us exactly what a normal session would look or feel like in detail. Yes, we the readers get the idea, but ultimately we don't actually know how a long session feels like beat per beat. So with that in mind, the goal of this piece is to accurately represent a game session, and make a blood-swap story worth shouting about. So here we go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stage is set.

            Perhaps I can begin this story with a simple and noble truth: People will only act for another if that action benefits their own self in the end. Yes, it’s a bit cynical, and by no means do you have adhere yourself to the truth. Wallow in your own lies and deceit for all I care. I’m sorry; did that come off as a bit rude? Well, it’s the truth. I’ve had an entire sweep to sort through all of the lies and bullshit that my friends and I kept telling and giving ourselves. I’m done caring. Hell, I’ve heard enough lies to make truth out of ‘em. Who knows, maybe the lies are the truth? The truth sure as hell wasn’t.

            We sought it out, er, the truth that is. We earnestly thought that finding out the truth would help us to win our session, that by somehow knowin’ when things would happen and how and why and everything, we’d be one step ahead of our enemies and defeat them due to superior knowledge. I guess it would have worked if our session wasn’t entirely screwed up, but what it came down to was that the game we played wasn’t prepared for a couple of variables that we brought to the table. Namely our stupidity, which made the truth hardly matter, and most of the so called information we heard turned out to be false. Hell, because of us, the lies we heard turned out to be more informative than the truth.

            That isn’t to say that the lies were true, either. Yeah, uh, we were basically taught to take everythin’ with characteristic skepticism. Hey, and if we were lucky, we’d actually get told somethin’ that wasn’t met to mislead us. It did anyway, due to the skepticism. Bottom line: we weren’t ready or capable of dealing with the shit the game gave us.

            But that was just the surface of the problems. Yeah, sure, big massive game changing events and problems are important, but, honestly, who gives a shit so long as people are happy? Any group can weather any problem, so long as everyone’s okay about its consequences. But lemme tell you, if one person isn’t, the entire group goes to hell. So yeah, on the surface, these big events that happened in our session hardly mattered at all. But at least on a subliminal level, they tormented our group to disunity and fractious contention. And that was the problem.


	2. Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young troll tells us about himself, and the world he lived in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Eridan as a rust-blood, eh? I think it's a fun concept to explore. Put all that aristocratic haughty desperation into someone who has nothing, and then let's see how desperate this Ampora is, right? However, this isn't purely intended as a punitive work towards Eridan's character. In fact it's far from it. I basically want to see how Eridan would be if he didn't grow up a spoiled brat in a ship. His aspects and preferences all remain the same, don't get me wrong, but he's had drastically different experiences. So that'll drive this story.
> 
> Another thing: I'm writing in first person, which, after glossing over some other popular works on this site, seems to be a bit uncharacteristic. Nevertheless, I'm going ahead with it. There's something that you get in terms of characterization with first person narration rather than in second or third, especially when you have multiple characters narrating. But that's (hopefully) in the future. Let's just enjoy Eridan's stupidity and naivety, which is a universal constant in any blood color.

                Well, I've probably bored you to death with that long preface, haven’t I? I haven’t even told you my name, and already lambasting you with my stupidity. Small wonder my friends think I’m overbearing and foolish, eh? That also may be the reason why I was chosen to preface our story. Then I'd be giving them a break! Anyways, I suppose proper introductions are in order. 

                My name is Eridan. I’m a troll from the planet Alternia, but I get the strange, unshakable feeling that anybody who’s seeing my account has an idea of what a troll is, so I’ll skip the details regarding how my species looks. Fair enough?

                I’m a rust-blood, lowest on the hemospectrum which drives the society I came from. Because my blood is colored burgundy, I get to be mistreated by every troll with a color supposedly better than mine. You might have expected me to be a little bit rebellious as a wiggler because of that, I guess, but honestly, I hardly cared. I’m a powerful psychic with telekinetic abilities. As such, even with the persecution, I had a couple perks. 

              Alternia was, at best, a beautiful planet filled with astonishing, awe-inspiring, and astounding locals. There were verdant forests stretching thousands of miles wide, mountains with veiled peaks, and an ocean that spread across nearly half the planet. At worst, Alternia was a crowded slum. The cities covered the ground that wasn't already claimed by the ocean. Billions of trolls lived on Alternia, populating every region that could be populated. The only untouched area was the blistering desert, which even then hosted a significant population of jade-blooded trolls. The undercities were covered in beds, and buildings were occupied to brim by any troll that could fit. So yeah, we definitely had population problems. Bad population problems.

              I guess it came from the fact that we had an entirely stupid way of procreation that the government refused to change. I don't really want to go into details over the troll reproductive cycle, but I can tell you that in the end, it produced ten times the amount of wigglers compared to the trolls that supplied their genetic material.  So we had a pretty high production rate. We would have been overpopulated long ago, if it wasn't for the Trials.

              The Trials were a rudimentary way of controlling the birth rate, and really, they were designed to kill the weak and expose the strong to killing. Whoever didn't panic was therefore strong. It had existed long before there was a problem, and the government kept that as its excuse for not reforming the reproductive system. 

              In a way though, the Trials defined the troll. Yes, they were traumatic. Yes, they scarred most trolls for the rest of their lives, and made more than a few psychopathic. But it was the first chance to prove oneself. Understand the Trials, and you understand the troll. 


	3. The First Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan starts to talk about his early life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello faithful 28 readers! I've decided to start using these chapter note doohickeys to give ya'll logistical updates. The first one is, yes, it is facetious of me to use this as if I have a large number of people reading this thing! I don't care!  
> Secondly, this is the first part which should provide some expansive information on Alternian life, no matter how badly it's written. That's really the goal of this piece, you see. Homestuck has a lot of data, information, process, and an enormous lexicon, but Hussie hardly explains half of it, at least from my view. I don't know about ya'll, but I like things explained. So I'm going to explain it, in the most ironically ironic way possible.

                I suppose I’ll preface my sad, lonely story by starting from the very beginning. Er, at least the beginning from my memory. So, I came out of my cocoon, and fully emerged as a young, bipedal troll, nubs and all. That isn’t to say that my horns were nubby.  Oh no, I was not about to be one of those tiny-horned rust-bloods that didn’t survive. I quite nearly willed my horns to become long and sharp. Nevertheless, they came out kinda thin, though they were pointed. The trolls with the horns best suited for the trials are the best suited for Alternia, so I guess I understood that. Sharp horns would always win at the trials, I guess, and I just hoped I would be able to live past the trials, so I hoped for sharp horns. Make sense? No? Moving right along then.

                The thing about the trials is that they’re supposed to put the strongest and most powerful trolls on the surface of the planet while the weaker ones are effectively culled from the population. I can see that working because most trolls that hatch are lower on the blood castes. The blue-bloods are outnumbered ten to one to begin with if there were no trials. The trials are supposed to even that out a bit, by making the ratio closer to three low bloods to one high blood. That way, fermenting a successful low blood rebellion is much harder, and trust me, on Alternia, rebellion can be seriously discussed and planned at any given moment.

                Anyways, immediately after dropping into the underground brooding caverns, I was given a number and ushered in by some mediator troll into a narrow steel-meshed floored corridor which contained the first trial: The Obstacle Gauntlet. Yeah, I’m aware that the correct and recognizable term is obstacle course, and that’s the way the mediator troll made it sound: like a simple little obstacle course we had to go through in under a hundred twenty seconds. Easy enough, right? One bronze-blood definitely thought so. He volunteered to go first, and the mediator looked more than happy to let him.

                Just a side note, here. Yes, it’s definitely true that the lower on the hemospectrum a troll is, the more likely they have some sort of psychic abilities. However, we can’t take this to mean that every low-blood has psychic abilities. I’d sure as hell say that their mental faculties are better than the high-bloods, but I can’t say everyone can use their mind to manipulate the outside world. So yeah, you have some rust, bronze, or gold bloods running around Alternia without psychic powers. And let me just say: they’re damn lucky to have survived the Trials. The only thing you can count on about the hemospectrum is the relative physical strength. For example, a troll with indigo blood will almost always be stronger than a troll with bronze blood. In fact, the indigo troll will be _exponentially_ stronger than any blood type lower than them. We’re talking the difference between being able to run a mile and run the Alternian Marathon. And for convenient reference, the Alternian Marathon is over 172 miles long. That’s how strong the blue-blood’s are, not to mention their insane survivability rates. I could (and did, at one point) shove a sword through their chest, and they’d still be breathin’. Hell, even with a mortal wound, they’d still be able to fight me, bare-handed, one arm tied behind their back, and blind-folded. You can see why they rule Alternia. We flimsy low-bloods hardly stand a chance, even with psychic powers, ‘cause in the end, it doesn’t matter how much shit you throw at these guys, or how much you blast at them. They can take it and then some.

                Understanding this, we go back to the story of the over-eager bronze blood. He stepped up to the beginnin’ of the Obstacle Gauntlet, and started movin’ forward. There were admittedly some pretty easy things at the start, you know, the hurdles, the climbing wall, and all those jungle gym type things. After climbing the second wall they’d set up, we were all thinkin’ “Hey, this seems pretty easy, we’re all gonna make it past this.” Hell, we were even scoffing at the Trials, and then a giant axe swung out of the wall and chopped the bronze-blood in half spraying blood all over us. Most of us changed our tune.

                Next, a gold-blood went up, and unlike the poor bronze-blood, this guy had some psychic ability, namely shooting flames out of his hands. The kid hardly knew how to control himself. Before he even started the course, this guy went up, took a deep breath as if he was gathering his strength, and pretended to be deep in concentration. He was tryin’ to impress the mediator or somethin’, and judging from the faces of the crowd, it wasn’t workin’. Kid apparently instinctly knew how to kowtow. It  would serve him well on the surface.  Whatever the case, he managed to use his pyrokinesis to make noticeable fires in all of the trapped crevices. So, at the very least, he knew where to be careful. Funny thing is, it worked. On the way, he learned that the traps were deployed whenever they detected movement, so he went ahead, stopping at every fiery hole, and just shot a tiny fireball past it, deploying the trap. Admittedly, even I was impressed. The asshole managed to cheat the entire Gauntlet. The mediator simply nodded in approval, while he checked off the troll’s serial number.

                The next guy was a highblood, in the standard sense of the word, with purple blood just one shade shy of sea dweller. Guy already had his biceps and triceps and quadriceps and every ceps ripped as Troll Mike Tyson back in his heyday.  Needless to say, as a highblood, this guy didn’t have any psychic ability. He did have strength like a demon, though, so he did have a chance. Or at least we thought. It turned out the guy was over-qualified for the job. He just started walkin’. A blade came out of nowhere and got him in the arm. He didn’t care. He just pulled it out and kept walking. Spike trap rose out of the ground. He just gingerly went through it. Acid was poured on the floor. He just jumped over it. When he was done, the mediator shook his hand and openly praised him for his trepidation, tellin’ him there’d be a place in the military and even the high aristocracy for a troll of his ability. Yeah, in reality, the guy just took a walk. Didn’t do anythin’ further than that.

                So now you see the type of people who get through the initial stages of the Trials. They either have some crazy psychic power, or they’re just able to survive through whatever’s thrown at ‘em. I, I thought, was neither of those things. After watching a few other trolls go through, some of them dying grisly deaths, I had consigned myself to be like the overeager bronze blood. I was gonna run through the damn thing. So the mediator called my name, and I started runnin’. I dove under the first couple of hurdles, slammed into the climbing wall and started climbing as fast as a possibly could. Actually, in hindsight, I more rabbit-hopped up the wall, hoping to avoid the giant blade that had a tendency to slice lesser trolls in half. I managed to dodge those first few blades, until I reached the spike trap. I hit the pressure plate, and then literally tried to leap over the 4 foot expanse of pointy and obscenely bloody needles. I almost didn’t make it, but luckily a previous contender had had the same idea as me, and since his corpse was on the spot I would have fallen, I merely placed my palm on his body and vaulted myself over the rest of the spikes, making a not-so-graceful landing. Namely, I fell sprawled out on the floor rather than making the fluid somersault you might hope for. That’s normally okay, I guess, when there aren’t pendulum blades swinging across the ceiling scraping the floor looking for fresh troll blood.  I got the feeling that I should be moving; so I got up, and started flailing myself across the heavily scratched floor hoping that my blood wouldn’t be added to the smiley-faced blade’s colorful painting.

                I dodged some other nasty traps, notably a water pit with a carnivorous whale, and I reached the acid trap. See, the acid trap is different in that the acid is sprayed at you as you try to run across. Either you run fast or you do something psychic to make the acid neutralized. Seeing as I had neither of those at that moment, I picked up a severed torso that lay next to me, put it over my head, and started walking. They sprayed acid at me; sure, I just had a meat shield that took most of the damage. The thing is, my meat shield kinda corroded away. I didn’t notice it until I was past the trap, but my body wasn’t damaged, so I just assumed the torso evaporated at the last second. What I didn’t know is that the corpse had melted away during the first ten seconds of my thirty second venture. Still, the acid had somehow bent around me like it would have if the cadaver had been there. And now, having passed every other trap, I stood at the final wall, and breathed multiple great sighs of relief, ‘cause I had just beat the gauntlet.

                 The key thing with the final wall is that you’re generally off guard at that point, having dodged or manipulated a good baker’s dozen of unexpectedly devious traps. That’s when they pour the lava down the thing. The mediators like to keep the final trap secret, so they obscure the final climbing wall from view. That way you don’t see it comin’. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised. I started carefully climbin’ the wall as quickly as possible. Lava has a tendency to sear flesh if you get to close, so naturally I kept a wide berth from the flow. The mediator saw this, however, and just poured more lava down the wall. Giving the mediator a look of pure unbridled disdain, I just kept climbin’.

                I hadn’t exhibited any psychic ability up to that point, and the mediators are basically told to eliminate any non-psychic low-bloods, so they had installed an emergency trap on the final wall to kill off any lucky weaklings on the final wall. The mediator, looking bored and dissatisfied over the fact that he hadn’t killed me yet, unleashed it on me. He made no point of hidin’ the maneuver; I wasn’t in a position to dodge. So I saw it coming. I didn’t know what to do other than to die, so I just tried to mentally will the blade to stop, hoping somethin’ would happen. And it did. The blade stopped in its path, and the strain I was puttin’ on the gears of the blade was making it grind under the pressure. I was just as surprised as the mediator: I was special. Well, as special as everyone else would be on the surface. Remember: only the psychics survive. The blade was sparkin’ though. It was receivin’ two signals: One from the gears forcing it forward, and the other from my mind and pure willpower to live pushing it back. The mechanism then exploded, forcing me up the wall and landing me un-elegantly on the platform near the mediator. Giving a sneer of begrudging approval, the mediator crossed off my number, and shoved into an iron door labeled two. I then found myself in a large cavern, with a nasty lookin’ highblood standing across from me.


	4. The Second Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan continues to be self-absorbed and impressed with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is my 36-at-most readers! The Second Trial! More expansive content that may or may not be canon! Honestly, I have no idea. Whatever the case, luckily for you all, I'm not going to be spending much more time on the trials. All this exposition, though interesting to think about speculate with, isn't exactly fun to write. I'll try not to let my personal disdain get in the way of the prose, but I get the feeling it's already bleeding through.   
> That sort of leads me to the second thing I want to talk about. Please comment if you don't like an idea or the way something's written. I'm more than happy to revisit my stuff and rewrite crappy sections. Hell, even a "Your writing sucks, retard" is helpful. This is an ongoing work. You all are basically my editors, or so I dream and hope. It works conversely too. If you like something, by all means give it kudos. It's encouraging to me to see that someone out there thinks my work's funny, interesting, etc. Or if you like something specific, such as an idea you'd like to see expanded upon, feel free to tell me. I'll be more than happy to do so.  
> In addition, now that I think about it, there's a third thing. The World Cup's goin' on. Expect updates to be less regular and more sporadic than they were before. Not to say that they were orderly to begin with, of course. I mean, let's be real here, I've got four chapters up.

                So, I get shoved in a domed rocky room, and, well-el, what do ya know, there’s a highblood looking straight at me with… an oddly hungry eye. Next thing I know, I’m seeing the mediator troll up on an observation deck. He motions for me and the highblood to start fightin’. Or start hugging, as the highblood thought. I mean, I can see where he got the idea. The mediator wasn’t too specific with his gesture, you know, with a simple hand flick inwards. Trolls don’t understand language right out of the cocoon, so for the most part the Trials and subsequent Choosing are conducted through gestures, facial expressions, and the occasional grunt of dismay. Everyone gets that. No matter one’s age, that sound is universally understood on Alternia. It’s basically the first word we learn, and acts as our first lesson on Alternian culture and daily life, because dismay is the backbone upon which all trolls stand.

                Nevertheless, I soon found a highblood on me, trying to squeeze my heart out, as it seemed. I don’t think he meant it, of course. Grubs hardly know their own strength. Not that I did myself, at least when it came to my psychic ability. Obviously, I didn’t want an oversized highblood on me, and my mind was more than happy to follow my desires. A boulder then flew at the highblood’s chest, forcing him off, and drawing some rich purple blood. Free, I stood up, and looked at the bastard. He was tearin’ up. D’awww. Did I hurt his wittle feelings? Satisfied, I stole a glance at the mediator. He was apparently trying to slice his neck off with his finger, and desperately at that. He was lookin’ pleadingly at the highblood, and the highblood apparently understood. No longer cryin’, he looked straight at me. And then he charged.

                I have a relatively lithe figure, so I’ve got some agility, but not enough to dodge a motherfucker flyin’ towards me at 50 goddamn miles per hour. He slammed into me, and just kept goin’. He slammed me against the wall. I was bleedin’ out of every orifice you could think of, probably had a couple of broken bones, and you wanna know what the highblood got from the collision? You guessed it: Nothing. Fucker was as healthy as ever. That had to change. Yeah, remember how I said these guys are pretty much immune to projectiles bein’ thrown at ‘em? I hadn’t learned that yet. So I just starting picking up all the rocks and throwing them at the bastard. All of them. All that was left was the dust of a hundred smashed rocks, and hopefully the bloody corpse of a highblood.

                Guess what?! He was utterly unhurt. And you wanna know what else? He started charging, again. All I did was  manage piss him off. Yeah, I quickly learned to never anger an idiot. They just get an excuse to use their idiocy. He charged faster, but this time, for some odd reason, I had enough time to dodge. Gracefully (yay) somersaulting, I repositioned myself for a counterattack. The highblood had to finish his charge, and in all likelihood, he’d be dazed after hitting a wall without any cushion (that would be me) to absorb the shock.

                Just a little side note. Telekinesis only works on inanimate objects, without having to jump through any bullshit limit loops. So I can lift a rock just fine, right? But a person, or a muscle beast, or anything that can think for itself, nope, I can’t. However, like I mentioned, there are some loopholes. BULLSHIT LIMIT LOOP #1: If the target desires to be moved, the psychic can move the target. Say a friend wants to jump up 50 feet. Normally, they wouldn’t be able to do that, but, if they desire it, a psychic can move them up. But, it has to be exactly the way they want it. Any deviation from their desire and the connection breaks. Generally, most people aren’t too picky as to how they get lifted up, but say they want a specific azimuth and angle, and the psychic makes the slightest mistake, next thing you know there’s a dead troll lying on the ground. Now, you can’t really use that offensively, so you have to understand BULLSHIT LIMIT LOOP #2: The target only has to want to move in order to be affected by a psychic. Note that I don’t say that the target has to _want_ to be controlled. The target just has to want to move in a specific way, and if the psychic can match that, then by all means, the target will be moved in that specific way. In addition, there’s BULLSHIT LIMIT LOOP #3: Only physical movement is taken into account when a psychic affects a target. So basically, it doesn’t matter what the target mentally wants to do, it only matters about the physical movement they want to make. It makes it a lot easier since a psychic doesn’t have to deal with mental issues, and the fact that it makes it easier for the target to lose focus over time and only go for the mental desire of the physical effect. So, like, they want to move a lever, but to do so they have to move their arms forward and back. In short, a psychic will take advantage of that rather than the fact that they want a lever moved.  I’ve already alluded to the last part, so I’ll just restate it as BULLSHIT LIMIT LOOP #4: So long as the target wishes to be moved, through whatever means, a psychic can affect the target in whatever way the psychic desires. That, in its entirety, is the key rule to all offensive telekinesis. Basically, all you have to do is wear the target down until they no longer care about the specifics of the movement they wish to make. Then you have full dominion over their limp forms. Trained psychic fighters are always careful to never slip up. They have a trajectory, speed, angle, and azimuth in mind whenever they go against an opponent, and they always think about the movement rather than the intended effect against their foe, because all it takes is one slip-up for a telekinetic psychic to take possession. And as you’re about to see, possession is a powerful thing.

                Going back to the enraged highblood, I obviously didn’t know those rules when I fought the guy, because I was, what, a day or two old? Nevertheless, I would have to learn them by the end of the fight; otherwise, my telekinetic ability wouldn’t even matter. So, like the kid I was, I just tried lifting the highblood, without any care for the bullshit limit loops. Needless to say, it didn’t work. He did seem to get a bit angrier though, so I took care to be ready to dodge. And the lumbering brute charged again. I noticed that he couldn’t really change direction, once he started rushin’, so I relatively easily dodged. And then I tried somethin’ radical. As he charged further towards the wall, I just, sort of… helped him along. I just made him go faster by twice the speed he was runnin’ at, and let me tell you, those extra miles per hour really did a number on him. Well, at least, I think it did because the shock of him hitting the wall made the entire room crack. He was down, if it was only for a moment. When he started to get up, I registered that motion and helped him up like the gentlemen I am… by lifting him twenty feet in the air. Surely he would be appreciative of the kind gesture!  Nevertheless, he looked upset as he realized he was going to fall down. I could hardly believe the grub would be upset over such a wonderful bit of help. Perhaps I wasn’t trying enough! Maybe if I tried harder, then this troll would appreciate my assistance! So, he tried getting up again, and I lifted even further up than before, about forty feet, and let him fall back to the ground. He started groaning, and I took that as a gesture of appreciation, so I helped him up again, this time letting him hit the ceiling, which, considering the arena was open air within a cavern, must have been a hundred feet up. So he crashed into it, and fell back down to the ground, crashing again.

                Another side note. Blueblooded trolls are quite susceptible to fall damage. When you throw a rock at them, the rest of their body compensates for the damage. It’s like the impact gets spread throughout their entire body. If it isn’t enough to hurt them in its mitigated form, it causes no pain. However, by forcing the entire body to endure injury, I, or any other psychic, can override that natural defense. Without anywhere to spread, the blueblood is forced to suffer the normal damage. Even the strongest can be weak.

                And that’s what was happening with that asshole.  Damaged beyond repair, the highblood was knocked out. And that leads me to BULLSHIT LIMIT LOOP #5: The unconscious are inanimate objects. So I just started throwing the Highblood’s limp body around until there was nothing left other than a purple splotch spread all over the wall and brooding cavern ceiling. Though very much injured, I was victorious. The mediator, up on his platform, was not excepted from the spreading of blood. There were spurts of it covering his body, and lemme tell you, he was pissed. But he was forced to let me go through now that my opponent was dead. So he opened the door leadin’ to the third and final Trial.


	5. The Third Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engrossed in himself, Eridan continues to give his boring and sleep-inducing life story without caring for the audience's time or attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK IN BUSINESS.  
> Okay, yeah, I know you at-max-eighty readers could give a care, but hey, this is fun to do.  
> So like I said, World Cup's goin' on (Los geht's, Deutschland) and there's a bunch of other stuff that makes leisure writing difficult. Nevertheless, I think there should be more frequent and regular updates from now on, so expect something every few days, at least.  
> So, I'm getting the feeling that a lot of you who read this are thinking, "How long is this piss-poor thing going to take?" Basically, I'm thinking ten more chapters for this section, 'cause we've got a bit of ground to cover before we can reach the overall goal. After that, I'm thinkin' about 5 more sections, each with more chapters than the next. Yeah, this is going to take a while. I'm cool with it though. This is for fun after all, and I've always wanted to create an epic worthy of Homer. Not sayin' that it will be, of course. Whenever I look at my prose, I do an inward cringe.

I walked into a new chamber, filled with the victors from the fight. Most were as badly damaged as I, with some of the blue-bloods more or less unscathed. Most of the low-bloods, like me, were bloodied up, and in some cases, had limbs missin’. I saw the pyrokinetic gold-blood dragging a useless leg with what used to be a hand. He’d certainly won Pyrrhic victory. I’m sure I had a couple of ribs broken, so I wasn’t anything special in comparison, but, when it came to the price some of the grubs paid, I got lucky.

There were a lot of low-bloods in comparison to the few blue-bloods, and since the mediator had shown an obvious preference to them, I expected, as much as a grub could, that he’d be upset. Oddly, he seemed pleased. The other trolls seemed a bit unsettled by this. Indifference, they could understand. Though we didn’t know much, we at least understood this man had done this before. This could be the norm for the post-second-trial phase, right? “Haha, sure,” we all told ourselves, in our grub languages. It still didn’t explain why he was pleased. He left the chamber, looking all too happy.

I started to notice the details of the chamber. Having just gone through two sadistic challenges, I made certain to be ready for anything. Who knew what could be next? Judging from the mediator’s face, it wasn’t gonna be good. It was a big domed chamber, with a perforated sheet metal floor, and what looked to be one grated vent at the very top of the room. The dome part of the room was made out of the rock that had formed up the other trials’ chambers. They were as naturally jagged as always. I took some comfort in that, but took caution knowing that the rocks would be relatively brittle. Like with the highblood I defeated, a big enough collision would cause the wall to break apart.

The others seemed to be taking the same silent calculations I was. They were no fools either. But, like me, they had no idea what to expect. There were about twenty of us, and we were all hopin’ we would be the lucky ones to survive this next trial. We started out with a hundred trolls in our specific brooding cavern. Already four-fifths of them were eliminated. What could possibly be next? The more injured trolls, like the gold-blood, seemed to be dreading what was comin’. Could hardly blame ‘em. In their state, they’d be unlikely to survive. It certainly was cruel to force these trolls with crippling injuries continue. But, even if they could opt out, they’d almost certainly die. The government on the surface by no means had the ability to support the crippled or otherwise impaired.

I only learned this later, but different brooding caverns stretched all over Alternia, each with a separate Mother Grub. The planetary Alternian government always proudly reported that it had the most Mother Grubs, numbering about 500,000. So that was 500,000 brooding caverns, producing about a hundred wigglers per day. Imagine that number exiting onto the planet’s surface every day. Alternia would soon be overpopulated. Even with that number fractionally reduced, Alternia, the capital, the shining jewel of the Empire, was crowded beyond belief. Most other nations, at least the ones bold enough to oppose Imperial conquest, always made it a point to show how ineffectual trolls were at controlling their population growth. Yet the government refused to do anything to try and stop it other than these trials and the brutal culling of low-bloods, who were admittedly quite numerous. Mind you, these were all traditions that existed long before Alternia became the capital. It was hard to get rid of them, and they seemed to stem the population to some degree. The trials and culling in general was both functional and fashionable.

Well, I certainly wasn’t feelin’ that when I heard a rumble comin’ from the wall. The others looked up with a start, some crying out in despair. We were kids after all. How much did they expect us to be able to take?

The wall burst open, making the large rock shards crash down, as expected. What came out wasn’t as predictable, because this type of thing that they were doin’ was totally new and supposed to surprise us. I mean, honestly, with the type of room we were in, nobody would ever expect what happened next.

Water flowed out and began to fill up the room. Surprising, eh? I told you; this thing was completely and utterly unexpected. Hell, even the trolls around me seemed blown away by this new innovation. Filling a room up with water had never been done before, at least on Alternia. I heard the old third trial was something like tryin’ to avoid geysers or somethin’ sproutin’ up from the floor. You’d use the water pressure to escape. I mean, THAT’S something you’d expect, right? The trick is so overused that it’s the kinda thing everybody thinks about, and then they count it out because it seems so commonplace and expected. But fillin’ the room with water? Oh no. They had us by the shame-globes.

Anyways, there was a sea dweller among our now-tiny group. She was the only one that seemed totally okay with all this. In fact, it seemed she couldn’t get enough of it. She looked at us like we were all insane for not loving what was to be the cause of our deaths. Eheheh, sure doll. Whatever you want. The rest of us will try not to die while you breeze through this, m’kay? The water filled up to neck level, and I took a deep breath. It’s true that you float in water, but somethin’ people forget is that you need to have air in your lungs for you to gain buoyancy. An average troll weighs what, 70 kilos? If that don’t exceed the density of water, I don’t know what does. So, you have to breath in, otherwise you’re dead weight. There was one guy who didn’t understand that fact. He just put his head underwater as soon as he could, hoping to get acclimated, I guess. Needless to say, he didn’t come up.

The sea-dweller waited it out until the chamber was full and just swum up to the grate where we were supposed to emerge. Most weren’t that lucky. I started my ascent as soon as I could, keeping in mind the water level, because I needed to breath, obviously. That didn’t mean I wasn’t cautious trying to come up, since there were sharp jagged rocks floatin’ around. It was easy enough, though about midway through, I got a deep cut from a falling rock. They were still fallin’. The pipes’ pressure made the entire room shake, and no stone was immune to the quake.

I had the ability to swim, at least. The gold-blood had so many broken bones and torn tendons that it was just a struggle to reach the surface. As the rocks kept fallin’, he wasn’t able to swim fast enough to dodge, and he sustained cuts that painted the water around him ochre. Unable to get air, he started to sink, and I couldn’t help but feel for him. In a last act of desperation, he attempted to heat the water around him to shoot himself up. He just increased the pressure, and it crushed his torso, making an explosion of yellow on what was once a clear canvas.

I got up to the grate, and once I pulled myself into the wonderful soil of the new cavern, I saw that most of us survived; there were about 16 of us left. We had survived the trials. But what was to come was perhaps the most terrifying test of all. The Choosing.


	6. The Choosing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan continues to blather on about his life, as if anyone cares, and describes his initial meeting with his lusus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The early parts of this story which I obligated myself into are FINISHED. I can now actually get on with stuff that's important to this story! Look forward to actual, essential plot in the next chapter! (Yeah if you didn't already know, this stuff about the trials didn't actually matter, I was just giving you my personal headcanon for this shit. Sorry about that)
> 
> PS. Germany's winning this World Cup you can quote me on that.

Upon swimming into the new chamber, I noticed a few changes in the layout. One, there was no mediator troll to greet us. Two, the entire place seemed to be formed out of natural rock, with no metal tricks or traps. Finally, the place was filled with white skinned demons. They flitted in and out of the area, some lookin’ at us, and others merely observing our actions.

A bronze-blood decided to touch one. It was a big ram-esque creature with incredibly sharp teeth, and it didn’t take to kindly to an unwanted touch. It bit off the troll’s torso in one fell swoop, leaving a spurting geyser of brown liquid. I was about to touch a ram with wings, and upon seeing that display, I immediately rescinded my hand from the lusus _I_ was about to touch. The winged hoofbeast seemed intrigued by how fast I caught on. Not enough to directly look at me, but enough to give a snarl of (I still hope to this day) equanimity. And if it wasn’t, it was considerin’ how nice I would taste. These monsters seemed to be more interested in what would give them food rather than affection.

Thus the remaining 15 of us began being studied and prodded. I can remember feeling sorry for the trolls being checked out by the lusii with tentacles. I mean, I know its somethin’ no one likes talkin’ about, but you know, it’s gotta be said. I mean, for those that are, it’s such a goddamn horrifying experience. You get feeled up by some slithery thing… High art and literature never even dare talk about tentacles. Like, there were these rumors about seriously fucked civilizations that did. Hell, some species got off on that kind of thing. The Empire made sure to keep a wide berth from those planets on their conquests, let me tell you. But yeah, bottom line, those grubs that had to endure that, they went through some fucked up shit.

One guy in particular, a jade-blood, had to go through that, and he got the brunt of the tentacle lusii attack. Mind you, being a jade-blood is pretty rare to begin with. They take care of the mother grubs on Alternia. As such there’re rarely more than 500,000 jade blooded trolls on Alternia. The mother grubs can detect when a jade blood dies, since that’s their own blood color, and a mother grub will then produce exactly one female jade troll. However, due to mutations, it’s possible for male jade bloods to be born. They’re always ostracized, slated for culling, and even if they survive their childhood, never given a specific mother grub to care for by the selective jade blood society. Instead, they become wandering specialist care-takers, and many become doctors if they stay on Alternia, or they’ll join the medical corps in the army. Nevertheless, there aren’t that many male jade-bloods around.

The lusii don’t really harass the rarer blood-types, but this jade-blood seemed to be gettin’ the brunt of every… inspection is a good word for it. I guess part of the reason this guy was abused so badly was because he looked vulnerable. His hair was unkempt, and his eyes spoke of a lack of security that most of us possessed. It was as if the fact that the horrible Trials were over didn’t echo with him. He saw everythin’ as a possible threat, and the merciless lusii took note of it. Eventually, a young mother grub came near him, and staved the rest of the monsters off. I guess she took pity on the troll since he couldn’t, or at the very least, wouldn’t do anything to help himself. Most of us tried to stay firm with the monsters, but this guy let himself be abused. The mother grub resonated with that, and she eventually placed the jade-blood on her back, and flew him to the surface. As to why, I have no idea. It was rare for a mother grub to do such a thing, because then she would become a virgin, and thus die relatively quickly in comparison to the other mother grubs, who could last a hundred sweeps. Even then, they only had about six sweeps to live at best, which really wasn’t much of a life. And that was the pity she showed to a troll she didn’t even know. Admirable, but pointless, in the end.

I myself got chosen by the winged hoofbeast, which was commonly known as a Skyhorse, as I would find out later. A strong, powerfully chiseled figure, he poked and prodded me, then lifted me onto his back, and we flew into the airspace of the cavern. As his angelic wings lifted us out of the tunnels once and for all, I couldn’t help but think of the jade-blood, and the immense pity that one being showed towards him. I myself felt pity, and even a twinge of regret that we had not bonded durin’ our time in the caverns. Not that any grub bonded with one another during the trials, but still. Admittedly, it was an odd feelin’. It would only make sense that he would become my moirail during the great adventure he, I, and ten others would have.


	7. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan describes his early childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the things I said are no longer things. I decided the story flow would work better this way, since the first six chapters are essentially one large headcanon. No, I say. We're actually going to have a bit of story before we break to a different story. Make sense? No? Well, it doesn't to me either.  
> That, and the thing I was going to do is the greatest generator of writer's block I've ever done. I'm not going to paint myself as some kind of great author (I'm writing a fanfiction, after all), but wording is indeed important. And if I can't find the right way to write something, I can't write it.  
> Anyways, let's just see where this goes.  
> UNEDITED, UNCUT, AND UNCENSORED. (I'll correct any errors tomorrow)  
> P.S. Guess who was right about the world cup?

As soon as I got on the Skyhorse’s back, it spread its powerful wings and flew up the cavern.  Seven G’s, I think. My lusus could go quite fast. Nevertheless, it almost crushed my young body. Barely survived that (I obviously did).

After that, I think my lusus realized that he could kill me. For the first and only time, he exercised restraint. He slowed up to a gentle glide, of sorts. We were well over the Alternian surface, and I breathed in the air of the old world. The forests and mountains spread below me like an effervescent sheet. The oceans in the distance glowed violet in the coming dawn. Within moments, it turned burgundy. The rest of the world didn't know it, but a new age was arriving with the sun.

I was soon looking over Alternia’s second and most populous city, Godthorn. As it was early in the morning, the lights of the soaring skyscrapers still sparkled. Near a billion people walked the streets below. Palace City, the capital beneath the ocean, was regarded the more beautiful and splendorous city. It was rumored to be legendary, as somethin’ left behind by an ancient civilization but existing even today. It had nothing on Godthorn, for all I cared. Its infinite height and grandeur outshined that of Palace City, no matter how it looked.

My lusus flew me passed the city, to the scattered woodlands at the city limits. I later found that Godthorn had an ordinance preventing trolls from entering the forests due to the amount of wild beasts within. Funny thing how I got planted in it. I didn’t know it at the time, but the Empire had passed “zoning laws” which made sure the lusii dropped young trolls in certain areas specific to their blood colors. I can only wonder how my Burgandy blooded brethren dealt with their lots.

The Skyhorse let me off and trotted over to a small clearing within the forest. Rusted tools and machinery was everywhere. Apparently, Godthorn had been usin’ this place as a dump. They must have stopped at some point, though. Everything looked older than a century. The building drones found me in the clearing. It was customary for young trolls to build their own hives. Not a problem. The inner architect in me got to work. They gave me a building height and width that was restricted by my blood color. It hardly mattered to me. I was thrilled to build my own hives.

Symmetry and the geometric interested me. I had four blocks available to me, to be placed as I wished. The first room was to be a living quarters of sorts, fifty meters by fifty meters. The second room, attached to the west of the first room, was my respiteblock. Most trolls couldn’t withstand the sun, so knowing that, I figured it might be useful to have a window to let me know when I could get up. Twenty-five by twenty-five meters. Simple enough. To the east, I’d have a dining area and nourishmentblock, same proportions as the last room. To the north, facing Godthorn, I’d put my stable, for my Lusus. This would be rectangular, though use up the same square area. Twelve and a half meters by fifty. The Skyhorse liked to prance. I could discern that much in the time I had known him.

Anyways, the drones built my hive, and I walked in the front door. It was homey, with a couch, table, and even a small television, if I ever wanted to tune into Alternia’s heavily propaganda prone media (I rarely did).  My house, for what I thought, was relatively nice. I didn’t have anyone to compare to, so I went with my view of the world. It quickly got used to repression.

My lusus mostly left me to myself early on. I learned to feed him pretty fast. Whenever I didn’t, I’d get kicked when I entered the stables. Luckily, his food was pretty low maintenance. He’d just eat grass, the kind I could pick up outside of my house. Didn’t mean I liked to do it, especially since the asshole really just treated it like a token gesture, like I owed it to him or something and it meant nothing. Actually looking back on it, he’d disappear for hours on end into the forest, and I’d find carcasses every so often. Douchebag was probably getting his food elsewhere. I hate that horse.

Well, I really don’t. I’m gonna acknowledge that he was very demanding. Not only with just the food, but everything he did with me. He expected me to be able to ride him from a very early age. I was far too small for him, and I’d fall off after a couple minutes of hard riding. When I did fall, he’d turn around and try and crush me with his hooves. I’d have to get out of the way and back on him quickly, otherwise he’d continue to try and kill me. Once, I tried running back into my hive after one of his lessons. I didn’t see him for days, and when he did come back, he violently pushed me off when I tried to get on his back. He didn’t tolerate weaklings.

That said, he did make me progress. I’d find books on history, literature, language, culture, and the sciences scattered throughout the stables. I initially was a bit hesitant to read them, considering his harshn and territorial nature (also, I didn’t know that Skyhorses couldn’t read), but I took them. I quickly gained a knack for history and war. I hated the culture that I read about, so I decided to oppose it.  It shaped me into who I am. I’m sure he meant the books for me, so I take that as a vested interest on his part in my education. He wanted to turn me into leader, able to take some and give it back. He made my curriculum.

Notably, there was an education system for most trolls. Most lusii didn’t really interest themselves in teaching. The government took care of that. However, since they wanted to keep the more populous lower bloods uneducated, they purposely zoned us in areas that wouldn’t be able to access the schools. I could go on for hours on how the government gave certain amounts of education to certain groups on the hemoscale, but just understand that as a Burgandy blood, I was lucky to have learned anythin’ at all.

When I was around three sweeps old, the first Blue-bloods showed up at my doorstep on hoofbeasts, demanding tribute.  They expected me to start rummaging for unused metals. When I told them I hadn’t done anythin’ like that, they were initially surprised I could speak at all. Then they drew swords. They told me they’d kill my lusus, and then cut off one of my arms because they didn’t like rust bloods speaking. And because they could.

I got an idea in my head.  I told them I’d give them tribute. Metal. One walked towards me with a glint in his eye. I psychically took the sword out of his hands. Looking a bit confused and perhaps scared, he asked, “What? How? You’re not supposed to be able to do that! Jegus, what’s going on?!”

“I’m givin’ you tribute,” I answered. I thrust the sword at him. Cerulean blood leaked out. He slumped to the floor.

“Oh no you don’t, shithead!” screamed the other noble. He rushed me. I pulled out the sword from the first guy and flew it to my hand. I parried him and slashed at the back of his knees. He fell.

“Please, don’t kill me,” he begged. “I can make it worth your while.”

It was especially pathetic. I ended the display by putting my sword through his mouth. I walked out the door, and saw my lusus flapping his wings above. He nodded in approval. Knowing he had been there the whole time, I made an obscene gesture. He nodded once more, and landed. He motioned for me to take the sword from the noble’s mouth. I took it. It was a fine weapon. A sabre with a slightly curved blade. Perfect for most anything. The handguard was unobtrusive, and it was quite light. The Skyhorse indicated that this was my sword now. It was the first thing I earned.

My lusus intensified the riding lessons. He showed no mercy whatsoever. We’d go at it for hours and hours until, once he was disappointed, he flew away. He added sword and psychic lessons on top of the riding lessons. There’d be days where he’d drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to practice. He kept me fightin’, day in and day out. In my free time, I’d read. Rarely was I not doin’ somethin’.

It paid off though. I was able to competently ride my lusus while wielding a sword, plus use my telekinesis to boot. It had become quite refined. Remember the bullshit limit loops? Well, I found bullshit limit loopholes (please clap for my horrible joke). All I needed was a slight nudge for massive effect. My power and precision had increased, for certain.

As for blue bloods, a few more came by, but I did what I learned in the Trials. I used their motion to lift them about in the air, and then I’d send them crashing down. After a couple of those shows, there weren’t any more nobles at my doorstep.  I mean, it’s not like I was a battle hardened killer, and that’s why they were scared of me. They just had a lot to lose by flying as high as an Alternian battlecruiser. I mean let’s be real though. They’d strut in on their high hoofbeasts liked they owned the place. It ain’t my fault they’re prideful idiots. I made it my duty to put these people in their place by showin’ them what it was like to be in the especially high places they so desired. And hey, I’ve never heard one sayin’ they didn’t like it there after they came down. In fact, they were _dead_ silent. Hell, they might have been _dead_ scared of what they saw up there.  Hey, I’m being _dead_ serious here. You gettin’ my subtlety? No? Yeah, uh, they were generally dead after falling five hundred feet through the air.

Basically, they stayed away from me, and to make sure no one else died, they spread rumors about the “witch-worm” of the forest. They left me to myself. I didn’t have troll contact for about two sweeps. And then, on my sixth birthday, the isolation ended.


	8. Another Angle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new troll introduces himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured a new point of view could do us some good. After all, no matter the universe, one can only take so much of Eridan.  
> Naturally, this new introduction should say something. I'm going through every troll, equally I hope. I just chose Eridan to start because I figured he'd be the most drastic change for the AU. Like I said, I've only shifted each troll's respective blood colors up twice. A rust blooded trodden on Eridan is significantly different from a privileged tool such as violet blooded Eridan. Same personality, different upbringing. Nurture defeats nature, but doesn't. Like Skinner, I'm using writing and genre to convey a point in psychology. On that note, screw the behaviorists.

Tavros

Uh, hi. Eridan asked me to take over for the next part. He kinda wants me to explain who I am before he describes our first meeting.

So, uh, I’m Tavros Nitram. Let’s just keep my blood color anonymous for now. I know, that, it’s like a thing everyone likes to do. Uh, reveal blood color that is. But yeah. I’ve always been a bit uncomfortable about it. So, let’s just keep it secret, okay?

Uh, well, when I finished my trials (by a somewhat small margin), I got chosen by a hoofbeast like lusus. My neighbors would call him a “Big bull”, probably because he was big. It wasn’t a funny joke or anything. He was just big. I had to dedicate an entire block in my hive to him. Along with hardened metal doors. He, uh, got… urges. In the middle of the night. And by urges I mean massive lusts for blood. It was really hard to restrain him, uh, especially since he tried to eat me every time.

I figure he must have chosen me because of my horns. To my, uh, deficit, they were shaped like his. I can’t boast a fatherly relationship with my lusus like Eridan did. He was basically three tons of meat that I had to pacify. Not fun.

My lusus dropped me off in a suburb of Godthorn. Lawnrings and nice little hives all around. The, uh, government didn’t know what to do with me. Someone had, uh, carefully hidden my blood color, and, uh, left me with a note to hide it. I was anonymous in that regard. So they left me in an average area.

The drones gave nine blocks to work with for my hive. I, uh, wasn’t the smartest or most focused kid. I just kind of haphazardly placed the blocks without much purpose. It ended up being three stories. Five blocks on the first floor, which had my living quarters and such, along with the giant storage area for my lusus. I, uh, probably really couldn’t forget that. Under any circumstance. Because he was everywhere. Three went on the second floor, which had my respite block and computer area. I couldn’t store the two in the same block because, uh, my lusus’s chamber sucked up about three quarters of the total space I could take. That probably explains why I didn’t really like him much. Or the fact that wanted to eat me. That may, uh, be a thing I neglected. The third floor was another storage area for my actual things. An attic, I think the highbloods call it. I had a railing installed on the top so I could overlook everything. Since my house was the tallest in the neighborhood, I had a pretty good vantage point. I, uh, hardly ever used it though. I was scared of heights. Among other things. Heights are just the tip of the iceberg. In fact, I really don’t know why I installed that railing.  

Anyways, I was forced to go to school once I turned two sweeps old. Schooling was pretty much how you’d expect it. Subjects such as quantum physics, confidence statistics, uh, Alternian history and literature, you name it.

I got interested in modern philosophy, while I was there. You know, Troll Nietzsche, Troll Kant, the basics. I, uh, actually got laughed at by other trolls because of it. It’s not a subject that’s very profitable, so all the others called me poor. In intelligence. They called me other things too, which, I, uh, think was probably due to the fact that I hid the color of my blood. Never be an outcast if you don’t have to. It’s really, uh, quite bad. If you don’t mind, we’ll just skip those incidents.

When I came home, I’d have to deal with my lusus. He’d be causing up a storm in the main block, uh, that is, his block. I mean, that was the distinguishing feature of my hive. Fresh hoofbeast meat would usually pacify him. I, uh, started going into the forest to get it. I learned how to set up traps to catch them, which kind of made up for the fact that I couldn’t wield a weapon. Armory class at school really did nothing for me. Which, uh, kind of explains why the teacher hated me. Well, pretty much every teacher hated me.

Going away from that, trolls ranking average on the hemoscale were kicked out of the schools by the time they were six sweeps old. So, yeah, on my sixth birthday, I was told to find a job. I looked over at Godthorn when I left school that day. I sort of always liked the buildings. When I was younger, I had always figured I’d make my home there once school ended. Childhood ended all too fast. The city now seemed more oppressive than hopeful.

I walked back to my hive, and, heard my lusus thrashing inside. I, uh, did something which he’d make me come to regret. I went into the forest, but not for food. I was done. With everything. The whole system. I’d just walk. I thought maybe fortune would find me, or something. It was stupid and childish, but you know what? It did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I deleted the "funny" old tags. I wrote them in hindsight, and since hindsight reveals plot, they couldn't exist.


	9. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros wanders through the forest, the realm of the Witch-boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry for the delay. I had other stuff happening, so hammering this out took a bit longer.  
> Anyways, I'm going to put the speaker's name at the beginning of the chapters from now on. It'll keep the linearity for you guys, and hopefully mitigate confusion, which I foresee.

Tavros

                I, uh, was a bit scared of the forest. I mean, I know I’m supposed to be okay with the dark and everything, but, uh, it’s a bit claustrophobic in there, and the shadows didn’t, uh, really help the matter at all.

                I, uh, had heard stories. Bad ones. Trolls going into the forest, and then not coming out. That isn’t so bad, but most of those stories end with finding a mangled corpse, pieces everywhere. That scared me. Dying was okay, but feeling great pain wasn’t. Worst of all were the stories of the Witch-boy of the forest, who would kill any troll on sight. They said that’s why the forest was off-limits.

                You might think, uh, knowing me, I’m not the off-limits type. To be honest, I, uh, didn’t really know what I was doing. Or why. That was probably the more important question. I just wanted to leave, I guess. I didn’t want to live the life predestined for me. I wanted more. Uh, within reason. Uh, taking care of a giant hoofbeast for the rest of my life just, uh, didn’t really appeal to me. My six year old mind reacted in the way it wanted to.

                I timidly wandered about for about six hours. And I saw something. The rumors were true. The forest was dangerous. Sprawled out in front of me, and spilling blue, was a dead noble. Dead in the same way the stories described the Witch-boy’s victims. My heart started pumping, and hard. I almost lost consciousness, which would have been very bad. I probably would have died if I had fainted. I was lucky, I guess, to have some self-control in that moment.

                In fact, I had so much, I was able to rationalize. Having trapped animals for a good number of sweeps, I could tell how long ago the time of death had been. This guy, while certainly lifeless, hadn’t been gone too long. No more than a half-hour. Which meant the Witch-boy was nearby. Rather than succumbing to fear, I remained calm. If I could get out of the forest, I could survive the night.

                I, uh, moved ahead, not thinking of what I had seen. It was all too horrifying. The shadows began to spread. Dawn approached. That, uh, wasn’t desirable either. The Alternian sun would fry me. I reached a little outcrop, where I could see the end of the forest. Like a lit candle, the white light of the sun poked out of the horizon, spreading and lessening the shadows.

                The forest was the only place that could keep me safe from the sun at this point. Getting burnt alive was, uh, less preferable than meeting the Witch-boy. I travelled on for a bit, and came to a clearing in the forest, where there was a small hovel. But, uh, more importantly, there were bones and corpses strewn everywhere. I realized this was the Witch-boy’s home, and immediately prepared to run. But I, uh, couldn’t. He had me in his grasp.

                I couldn’t move, even though he was nowhere near me. He must have been a psychic, I guessed. I heard a loud, booming voice. “You trespass upon the territory of the Witch-boy. The punishment is death. What say you in your defense?”

                I, uh, thought quickly and came up with something. “Ahhhh, Jegus, Jegus! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

                The voice replied with a, uh, “The highbloods are sending kids now? Dear gog, they must be getting desperate. Lemme look at you.”

                It was, uh, kind of weird change in diction. I was, uh, confused. Who was this, if not an insane psychic? The Witch-boy came out. Dressed in a coarse brown tunic, he came out. His horns were shaped like lightning, and his gaunt face seemed to emphasize that fact. The sharp nose, tightly formed ears, and thin lips gave him a sense of concentration and thought, even though he looked only my age. His eyes were unnaturally squinted as he looked at me, but it certainly didn’t detract from his fierce face. The only thing that seemed out of place was the hair, which was unkempt and shaggy. But, then again, he probably didn’t have access to a mirror, I guess, or he would have easily caught on to his ideal look.

                Anyways, it, uh, surprised me that he was about my age, as it had surprised him, I guess. “Those are huge horns, if you don’t mind me sayin’.” He spoke in, uh, a sort of drawl. Sort of raw, lilting accent, though in a young voice. “And you don’t look like a highblood. Tell me, did someone send you here?”

                “N-no.” I replied. I knew I looked scared. It, uh, actually probably kept me alive. “I was, j-just, uh, trying to go forward. L-leave.”

                “From what?” he inquired.

                “I-I, uh, don't really know.”

                “Hmm,” he thought. “Well, I know that the highbloods wouldn’t send someone as… normal as you. I’ll figure you out later. In the meantime, what’s your name?”

                “T-tavros.” I stuttered. “Tavros Nitram.”

                “Well, Tavros, uh, you normally stutter like that?” I nodded. “Hm. Well, I guess I’ll tell you something, then. I don’t actually call myself the Witch-boy.”

                “I, uh, could guess,” I replied.

                “Fair guess. I’m Eridan Ampora.”

                At that moment, I, uh, was overcome with fear, and I, uh, fell to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I think that's over ten-thousand words. I have a feeling I'll be hitting many more milestones before I'm done telling this story.


	10. Bulldaddy Isssues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan begins to realize the world doesn't revolve around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Hussie finishes off, I feel as if I'm the proverbial latecomer to the party with this fic. Even though I'm pretty sure no culture has a proverb about a party. Hell. Bad example.   
> Anyways, I've been doing a lot of expository stuff here, and you know what, I almost feel sympathy for Charles Dickens when people rag on him for his lengthy expositions. Almost.   
> Whatever the case, this trend will continue for a while. I think Alternia will figure more prominently in the trolls' lives when they finally enter the SGRUB session. For those of you (none) who follow this, hang tight. I'll guide us through this detail oriented sea.

Eridan

                The stuttering troll calling himself Tavros Nitram fainted after I told him my name. I doubt it was because he knew me. Nobody did. He was probably just weak, so I left it at that.

                I had actually left my house with my heart in my throat. The blue-bloods were dangerous even when I had them in the palm of my hand. One once had brought a poison dart in his lips, since he knew that I generally let my victims talk. He ended up puncturing himself in the cheek before he could ever let it fire. I was surprised when he started convulsing, but in the end figured out the truth. Poisoned. Dead as a coffin nail. At least he was kind enough to do the dirty work for me. Saved me a guilty (not) conscious for that day.

                Anyways, I could tell almost immediately that Tavros wasn’t a blue-blood. You’d think the assholes were smart enough to try and seem inconspicuous by dressin’ like a member of a lower blood caste. Nope. Opulent noble clothing. Every. Damn. Time. If they had just done the opposite, they would have been momentarily spared, until I figured them out.

                Tavros wore the standard black peasant jumpsuit. His face seemed lined with pain, and coupled with his wide eyes, it made him look afraid. Of what, I couldn’t know. His large nose would have distinguished him, if not for the giant horns he possessed. Looked like something off a hoofbeast, er, a different kind than mine, that is.

                His hair was close cropped, like any other member of the lower caste, which, honestly, made my blood boil. The Empire required this haircut, ostensibly for a common “identity”, but really just to limit self-expression. Individuality created unrest. They could allow for a few societal outsiders like me, but the majority had to remain controlled, or the government would fall in a day.

                Nevertheless, as far as I was concerned, Tavros was innocent. He probably just stumbled upon my house by accident. I brought him inside the house, into the main room. I left him by there, and checked my voice modulation system, which was quite rudimentary. It was like a brass instrument, in that I spoke into a tube, and the sound would come out differently, in this case, much deeper and throaty. It gave my enemies sense of fear, which was useful when I let some of the highblooded thugs go back to report what they had seen. It helped keep their friends away. As much as I liked the look on my victim’s faces right before they died, when I sometimes thought about the effects of their deaths, I got this image of a weeping matesprit, and that made me feel a bit depressed. I tried not to think about it, but, you know, it sometimes went through my mental filter. Better to live and let live, in an oddly literal sense.

                I heard him coming to, and I walked back in the main room. “Feeling better?” I asked.

                “Y-yeah, I, uh, think so. Hey, I-I can move again!” he exclaimed. “You let me go?”

                “I decided you weren’t here to kill me,” I said. “So, yeah, I did.”

                “Th-thank you.” He had a nasally and somewhat gravelly voice. It kinda added to his timidity.

                “Maybe now you can tell me,” I probed, “what you were doing in my forest.”

                “Uh, yeah…” He stopped for a moment. “How do I explain this? Uh, well, it’s my sixth wriggling day today.”

“Happy spawning, then,” I congratulated him. “It’s actually mine as well. That doesn’t seem a reason to go into a dangerous forest.”

                “W-well, you’ve been sheltered out here.” It struck me as an odd comment. I’d think the shelterin’ occurred on the paved streets of Imperial control. “Once we turn six, we’re kicked out of school, and, uh, forced to look for work.”

                “Oh.” I didn’t know that. “That’s only four sweeps of schooling, though. What, do they honestly think integral calculus is enough for a civilization to run?”

                “The l-lower castes aren’t really expected to any intellectual work. I mean, uh, we’re given what we need to perform our roles in society. I don’t think burgundy bloods like you get any schooling, because, I mean, most burgundies and even bronzes are serfs.”

                “So then, I guess you’re on an upper tier?” I asked?

                “N-no. I’m just a step above serfdom, I guess.”

                “But I’ve read about great universities and such. Who goes there?”

                “All b-bluebloods, even though, they, uh, don’t really do anything with it, except pretend to be educated. I know most teal-bloods go to get certain government jobs. Some w-wealthy olive-bloods pay their way through. In fact, uh, most invest in the extra two sweeps of basic schooling that the other high-bloods get.”

                “Still, I don’t get what’s bad about being forced to look for work,” I said, still confused.

                “Well, uh, m-my lusus,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if he was ashamed. I understood it though, believe me. Skyhorse dad didn’t really relent.

                “Don’t even need to tell me, Tavros,” I said, holdin’ my palms open. “Overbearing bastards, aren’t they? Mine pushes me so hard I don’t even know whether or not I’m moving.”

                “Mine tries to eat me,” Tavros lamented.

                “Oh,” I said. “That’s a little bit worse.”


	11. Departure and Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros is forced to break some mental boundaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o. I was just on holiday, and though the plane ride was six hours long and without both fresh water and entertainment, I was able to get, among other things, some of this story done. I'm writing chapter twelve as I post this, which is a first for me. For the most part, I write a chapter, post it up, and then ignore this whole thing for about two weeks, then do it all again. So here it is.

Tavros

                I, uh, looked at Eridan, and for all his rags, he was quite spoiled. There were nice treasures strewn across the house, with book after book lining the shelves. He, uh, really had been sheltered. That kind of thing would never had been allowed on Alternia proper.

                Eridan spoke. “Well, I could handle a mindless beast. Imagine an overbearin’ presence that’s with you every hour of the day.”

                That settled it, uh, in my mind. He got the lucky end of the stick, and didn’t even know it. I couldn’t, uh, really blame him though. He didn’t have much to go off of other than his own perception.

                “C-can I go?” I asked. Eridan looked kind of sad. I, uh, think he considered me his friend, even if he threatened to kill me. I don't really know why. He's, uh, pretty desperate. Even today. 

                “You have to make a promise,” he said.

                “W-what kind of, uh, promise?”

                “That you’ll come back.”

                I stared at him for a little bit, and he looked back expectantly with his intense eyes. Within them, I saw the sort of loneliness that only isolation could bring, and, I, uh, sort of understood it. I mean, I wasn’t really part of the blood-caste society that we had, since I kept that anonymous. No one was supposed to associate with me. They, uh, still did, of course. But I had less contact with others than what was considered normal. Eridan had nothing except a lusus, whom he loved and resented. He was desperate for contact, I guess.

                I really just kind of wanted to leave, so I said, “Uh, okay.”

                Eridan brightened. “Then I look forward to seeing you.” He looked kind of bashful. “Please don’t take too long.”

                “I won’t,” I hastily promised. Much to my, uh, surprise, I kept it.

Within a week I came back to the forest. After an initial threat like the, uh, first time, Eridan changed faces, excitedly greeted me, and showed me his new Strife Specibus card. “My lusus gave this to me right after you left on our wriggling days, though he forced me to set it to swords,” he said, slightly resentfully. “I don’t mind it though. I can’t imagine fightin’ in anything but Bladekind.”

“Y-you use swords?” I asked.

“Yup,” he replied. “I don’t really like them, but you know, when your lusus tells you to do somethin’, you do it. I like to think I’ve gotten kind of good.” To demonstrate, he made a simple iron wrought sword appear in his hands, and sliced off a few hairs from my head. “Ten exactly,” he predicted. I, uh, held out my hand, and, uh, counted them when they fell. “Ten.” I was surprised. He was more than “pretty good”. That’s what comes with practice, I guess.

He sat on the floor and asked me what I used. “Uh, n-nothing really,” I whispered, somewhat embarrased.

“Nothing?” Eridan laughed. “Come on. I know I live out here, but even I know every troll specializes in some weapon.

“I,uh, don’t really use th-them,” I said. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, but I wasn’t going to admit that to what seemed to me, uh, a pretty judgmental guy.

“Well there’s gotta be somethin’ you can use. What do you do for food? You can’t buy it, at least not in the default caste.”

“I, uh, made traps to catch food, b-but-“

“Trapkind,” he said, brightening despite the look on my face. “Yeah, it’s a thing. I saw it as an option when I chose Bladekind. However, the question is, where are we gonna get you a strife specibus?” he posited with a mischievous smile.

“I, uh, don’t really want to know,” I tried to say, but he, again, cut me off.

“We’re gonna dig it up.”


	12. The Arrival of Dikkke.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan and Tavros dig up a Strife Deck, only to be accosted by a group of blue-bloods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long. I know I said I had already started, but for that very reason I neglected this story. Life happens sometimes, and other things take precedence. Nevertheless, I decided I'd make this chapter an extra long one to make up for it.  
> As a side note, forgive me for having the paragraphs begin at different places, in terms of the formatting. In a perfect world, I'd make it all "tabbed", but this beta doesn't like that style.

Tavros

                Eridan, uh, had a glint in his eye which I, uh, really didn’t like. Come to think of it, he had probably planned this all along, since there were shovels by the door.  He, uh, dragged me outside with the things to the front of his hive, where the majority of the dead nobles' stuff had been buried. Some of it was placid, like clothes, and the rest of it was a bit, uh, explosive. Seriously. There were bombs from failed sabotage attempts. Yup, I guess he wanted something to do. Digging holes in his minefield of a lawnring was an act of friendship. Okay. It was at that point, uh, I realized that I really shouldn’t be anywhere near this guy. But, well, uh, I was being dragged.

                “Here’s your shovel,” he said, handing me the tool. “Dig up whatever you can find. I’m sure one of these had an unused Strife Deck on ‘em. From what I here, you people in the cities carry them around like grubsauce.”

                “Uh, we really don’t carry that around. That’s, uh, kind of disgusting.”

                He looked at me like I just couldn’t get it. “That’s the _point_. It’s a bit a’ irony. You know.”

                Well, uh, guess what, I, uh, didn’t get it. But, you know, you roll with the punches, nasty as they are. We set to work digging. I nearly killed myself about five times, and the, uh, explosives were definitely still live. Eridan liked the danger. I guess that’s uh, what you got when you lived under constant threat alone on the woods. And this is what I got for coming back.

                I eventually found a strife deck in the indigo colored ribcage of some upper noble. I called Eridan over. “Alright, let me see.” He squinted to look. I, uh, noticed he did that a bit. He touched the deck and it came to life. Hundreds of options were displayed on the front of the card.

                “Here’s trapkind, though, you honestly could probably do better with spadekind. You work well with a shovel.”

                “W-what?” I asked, a bit, uh, incredulously.

                “I’m only kiddin’. I don’t know. I think a soldier who uses a spade would be pretty cool, though. A Shovel Knight, if you will.” I, uh, was actually quite astonished. Eridan apparently had a knack for coming up with completely original ideas.

                “I-i’m not much of, uh, a knight. That, uh, seems more you.”

                He gave me a look of, uh, confusion. “What? Because I carry a sword and ride on a hoofbeast? Well, I guess…” he thought. “I really didn’t choose it, though. My lusus…” I think, uh, “here we go again”, and he goes ahead. “Well, he forced me into it. Moment I could stand, he put a sword in my hand…” He, uh, went on for a good amount of time. I noticed his hesitance to accept his own effect on himself. He apparently thought he was molded to become who he was. And perhaps he wanted something to blame for his misfortunes.

                Uh, about a good 15 minutes later, he started to conclude. “So, you see, my predicament really has to do with the effect of blue blood culture pervading every aspect of society, from your myths, to the way my lusus treated me.” I have no idea how we, uh, really got there. I knew enough high and mighty types to understand I had to let them rant. Eridan, uh, was full of himself. There. I said it. He’s one of my closest friends, even today, but, uh, he has an egocentric streak.

                                “So, Tavros, do you understand-” He suddenly bolted upright, a little shocked, and uh, reached in his sack-like back pocket for a little buzzing device. I, uh, was actually kind of confused. I mean, why did he have things in his pockets? Uh, even I had a fetch modus.

                “E-eridan, um, why do you have pockets? D-don’t you have, uh, something, like, uh, a p-proper modus? I-i mean, you’re, uh making me get a s-strife deck, but-” he cut me off.

                “Nothing I can use, Tav,” I, uh, really like how he just casually shortened my name for his convenience (I don’t. Sorry. I really, uh, can’t sound sarcastic at all. Or anything, actually. If I make that mistake again, I’ll, uh, make sure to note it.) “We’ve gotta move. If you’re up for it, I can show you my hell.”

                “W-what do you mean?” I asked, a bit confused, and perhaps, uh, scared. He detected my fear, I guess, and replied, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s honestly nothin’. I handle this nearly every day.”

                We started, uh, running back towards the hive, where he talked along the way. “This is a motion detector. I read up about it in one of my electronics books. I don’t like the nooks and crannies of it, but some of it in there has been really helpful. This is how I knew you were coming the first time,” he explained. I sort of just ran along. It was hard to keep up. He had, uh, massive stamina, and I could only guess that he spent a lot of time training. Or perhaps, he was just excited to kill. “This says we’ve got five this time.

                We made into the hive, where he opened a trap door. “I hand-dug this. Sometimes they bring cannons, and that would be bad if I was on the upper floors.” We went inside.

“N-now what?” I asked. He brought down the voice modulator. “Now, we wait and see,” he grinned. I don’t know if he, uh, should have been.

Within a couple of minutes, we heard the sound of motors, and a grating, highly, uh, elitist voice spoke out. “This is a mandate for the capture of Ereedon Aampura. The Alternian planetary government has officially confirmed that there are illegal subversive activities taken place within the area, and has furthermore found that Aampura is directly connected with subversist action. We implore Aampura to immediately cease and desist and to surrender himself into the authority of Duke Aisuuk Dikkke, who is currently speaking, that is to say, myself. Thus, the mandate is issued.”

Eridan shrugged back in resignation. “I know this one. He’s a higher up assigned to capture me. He’s actually here himself? Well, this’ll be fun. I don’t I’m gonna need this.” He put away the voice modulator. There was a, uh, bunker window, and I looked out.

He walked out, and put his hands up. “Alright, you got me. I surrender, Lord Dikkke.” I was surprised, but even with two days of contact, I knew he had a plan. I was really more surprised at how, uh, bold he was.

“That is Duke Dikkke, to you. I rank quite highly, boy,” he spat.

“I get it, you’re a pretty big Dikkke,” Eridan quipped. I guess it was a common last name among blue-bloods.

“Yes, indeed. I am the biggest Dikkke, and you’d best remember it.” He pointed to some uniformed soldier types. “Take him in.” Dikkke turned away, took out a cigar, lit it up, and started smoking. I could tell he was uh, feeling smug.

Eridan pretended to think. “Actually, on second thought, I could care less.” He telekinetically lifted the two soldiers coming near him. However, they were prepared. They still, uh, had control of their arms, and started shooting their rifles. Eridan, however, turned the bullets back at them. Blood spurted out as they hit at twice the speed they were fired. Eridan used the corpses to strike the vehicle that they came in. When it hit, Dikkke turned around, quite distressed, even though he, uh, was still smoking the cigar. He motioned for the two bodyguards around him to attack. Eridan quickly smashed one into the other, knocking both out. He then, uh, stuffed them inside the car.

Dikkke violently spat out his cigar. “So then, it is true. You have a strong penchant for telekinesis. It is indeed difficult to gage such attributes when everyone you send supposedly dies. Surely a little wiggler such as yourself could not have killed them.”

Eridan shrugged. “I did, I assure you.”

Dikkke merely, uh, smiled. “Well, even if you did I came prepared.” He flashed a pendant. “This makes the object it is attached to immovable by telekinetic means. I am afraid I am immune to your ability,” he grinned in mock pity.

Eridan, uh, grinned back, and took out his sword. “And I’m afraid to tell you that I have other means of dispatching enemies.”

                Dikkke stopped smiling. A lavish single edged blade appeared in his hands, and he charged. Eridan was ready for him though, and he sidestepped the attack, and, uh, hit Dikkke in the back with the butt of his sword. “Insolent…” he snarled, as Eridan laughed. But, uh, then the kid gloves came off. Dikkke slashed back and forth, and Eridan blocked each attack. He was smiling, but I could, uh, tell that this was getting difficult. He probably rarely had to use his blade.

                Dikkke, however, made a mistake. He slashed in an area that was favorable to Eridan, and he blocked and countered, slicing off Dikkke’s left ear. As blue blood flowed down his head, Dikkke became enraged. “Bastard… that will take money to repair, you churlish fool.”

                “You won’t have the opportunity to spend it,” Eridan replied. And this time, uh, Eridan charged. He kept up the assault, but Dikkke knew how to use his surroundings. The clearing was, uh, filled with scrap metal, and he backed up pass a torn up wheel. Eridan didn’t, uh, notice, and fell headlong into the dirt, dropping his sword. Dikkke kicked it away.

                “Now who is high and mighty, boy? I shall put you out of your misery,” and he rose his sword for the kill. I, uh, was actually worried, but I should have known better. Dikkke was positioned in such a way that Eridan had the opportunity for the perfect attack, and he seized it. Eridan kicked Dikkke in the shame globes. He dropped his blade, and Eridan picked it up as he rose. Dikkke doubled over and fell to the ground.

“Looks like I win Dikkke. Next time, give all your members a pendant.  Then you might actually have a chance.” Eridan then stabbed Dikkke, and drew out the sword. “It’s all right Tav. They’re all dead.”

I came out of the hive. “Y-you made short work. That was pretty, uh, cool.”

“I should hope I did. This isn’t even their best attempt.” He looked at the bloodied rapier. “Well, I think I’ll keep this. A trophy for victory in my first duel. Let me just see the name…” He looked at the blade, and it did look nice. Ivory hilted with metal that shinned as bright as the moon, it was a sight to behold. True to its, uh, look, the blade was named Moonwatcher. “Thus Moonwatcher becomes a part of my arsenal. Oh, and before I forget, Tav, thanks for callin’ me cool. That’s the first time I’ve ever been complimented for doing this.” He laughed, and I, uh, joined in a, uh, little bit.

He took the pendant from Dikkke’s neck, and threw the corpse upon the car he came in with his psychic power. It hit with a bone-shattering thud, and the car started to smoke.

“Anyways, you were askin’ me about my fetch modus, right? Watch this.” He took the pendant, and put it in one of his free cards. The thing, uh, turned to stone. It had a slot for, uh, a blade of some kind. “Sword-in-the-stone modus. My lusus gave it to me a while back. It would be useful, if I had the blade to open it. Otherwise, I really can’t do anythin’ with it, so I try not to use it, unless it’s somethin’ I don’t want anyone to touch.”

He studied my hair. “You know Tav, we gotta do something about your hairstyle.” The car exploded behind him, and he, uh, unflinchingly said. “It’s too tame, you know?”


	13. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros and Eridan decide upon what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this entire chapter is probably quite absurd. Well, forgive me. I've been reading and watching performances of Waiting for Godot, and that's had a major influence on how I use plot devices. Even though this is fan fiction, I still feel like I'm trying to prove some point. What that point is, only time will tell.  
> In addition, I also feel there's finally an end in sight for this first part. I'm only going to introduce six characters, er, at least in the way I've done with Eridan and Tavros. This isn't because I'm in a rush to complete something; I've had this planned out for a while. Nor is it because the first six characters are the most important. Everyone will have their own unique experiences to share, and each will have their own time to do so.  
> The reason I'm doing so is because I want to advance the plot in a very specific way. That isn't to say I've planned everything out, and the writing will go ahead in a procedural fashion. What I have done, however, is organized the story along several critical moments. I've just introduced what one of those critical moments will revolve around. I named the story with great care. The title isn't throwaway.

Eridan  
Tavros just kinda looked at me after the car exploded. He must have thought I was justifiably insane. Well, I was. The aesthetic is my primary concern, you understand. Standard bowl cuts simply don’t cut it, especially when something is violently combusting in the background.  
Somewhat dazed, Tav meekly replied, “W-what did y-you, uh, have in mind?”

  
I actually hadn’t considered what would be best. I wasn’t exactly the best hairstylist, considering mine had been in the same position for sweeps. “Well, your horns get in the way of the sides of the weird thick bowl thing you’ve got goin’ on there. I guess a shave along the sides might work… Do you have some sort of spray or gel?”

  
“W-wait, you, uh, don’t have some? Geez, for all your, uh, talk about hair, you don’t really seem to really know what you’re, uh, doing,” he replied.  
“Welcome to livin’ out in the boonies. You get what you can get.”

  
Tav laughed a bit and sat down on a mound. “Yeah, uh, I guess. I don’t r-really have any, but, uh, I’m sure we could find some if we go back into the city. G-godthorn has a plethora of shops in the city center. Though I guess, uh, after seeing some of those blue-bloods try and k-kill you, I’m not sure how w-welcome either of us would be. Godthorn’s borders are heavily guarded. They know your face, don’t they? And if, uh, I’m near you, well, uh…”'

  
“Good point. I think I could disguise myself though. If I’m not mistaken, they only know me through my rags,” I thought.  
“Maybe…” Tavros started to ponder, and then looked at me with realization. “This is, uh, c-completely absurd, you know. We’re sneaking into a hostile area for a bottle of hair gel.”

  
I smiled. “Ah, but as Troll Plato said, ‘for a bottle of hair product, there is no disgrace for being servant or slave… no action that can be taken as unjust.’”  
“Y-you sure he said that? I mean, I’ve read his works,” Tav grinned.

  
“Ha, perhaps. He said somethin’ to that effect when the Silent Emperor murdered him.” That put a somber tone on the mood. “I forget that most philosophers have been executed.”

  
Tavros looked down. “They h-have… I wanted to be one when I was younger, until my teacher spat on me when I told her that’s what I, uh, wanted to do.”  
Smiling sheepishly, I said, “Well, let’s do it for Troll Plato. A bottle of gel. I’m actually good to go to Godthorn for the sake of it in itself. I’ve never actually seen the inner city.”  
“I-it’s a cesspool. You don’t, uh, really want to see it. No need t-to, you know…” Tavros pleaded.

  
I looked at him. “Come on. You seem to hate the current state of affairs as much as I do. If we’re ever gonna do anythin’ about it, we need to see the city, good and bad.”  
“I kn-know. Fine.” Tavros got up. “B-but when we get the bottle, you’d better, uh, p-promise to let me fix your own hair.”

  
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, feeling a bit assaulted.

  
“H-have you looked in a mirror? Oh, uh, that’s right, you don’t have one. Huh. We’ll have to make a stop, at, uh, my hive anyways, if we’re going to give you a, uh, disguise.” Tav looked away from the clearing. “F-follow me. And, uh, bring your strife deck. It, uh, could get kinda ugly.”


	14. Suburbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan and Tavros attempt to sneak their way into Godthorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Jegus it's been a while, hasn't it. Labors of love tend to fall by the wayside, don't they?  
> I fleshed out the rest of Part One, and though I don't have a set amount of chapters before I feel the story is completed, I feel there's an end in eventual sight. It's like I've just reached the base of a mighty mountain. All I have to do now is climb up it. Easier said than done, as is evident by the fact that the last update was a month ago.  
> Another thing I came to terms with. It's going to be a bit of time before we actually get into the Sgrub parts. The end of part one will have something to do with the actual game, and part two will be more interspersed with game rhetoric (and even preparation for it, I feel). But we won't be seeing the Lands until part three. It's all set up till then. After that, who knows how long this will take? (Seriously, I put a question mark because I want somebody to answer that. I sure as hell don't know.)

Tavros

                Uh, we went on ahead through the forest, where Eridan slowly began to lose his bearing. He didn’t, uh, leave his hive much, I could tell. Uh, not to say that I did. I had only been between my hive and his, so, uh, I really don’t know why I’m judging. Uh, what I mean to say is that I started, uh, leading, which felt, uh, good. Having been trodden on and pulled by a leash, it felt good to break out of the, uh, barriers. I felt important, for once.

                “Careful now,” Eridan warned. “There’s enough traps in here to bring down an army. I found that out the hard way,” and he pointed to a, uh, scar on his cheek.

                “I was wondering where th-that, uh, came from. Why are there so m-many?” I asked.

                “I think the blue-bloods want to keep me out of the city. Gods know what damage I would wreck, right?” and he gave me a look of feigned, uh, frailty.

                “Well, y-you would,” I replied.

                “That’s the point, of course,” he said, looking forward again. 

                We went on silent until we reached the, uh, outskirts of the suburbs. The gray, disquieting, and empty streets spread out every direction. The government, uh, kept the citizenry working during the waking hours. Uh, en “K-keep low,” I said. “I don’t know what to, uh, expect. I know a guardsman comes around every so often, but people should be working right now. There won’t be much of, uh, a n-need for h-heavy guard duty.”

                “Right,” Eridan said as he crouched down. “Let’s just proceed, shall we?” I nodded, and we went ahead. As we wandered through the, uh, empty streets, I, uh, noticed that the area might as well have been deserted. The government was quite effective of ensuring that all lower bloods were, uh, kept properly working. It basically was a giant machine.

                “So, which hive are we looking for?” Eridan asked, standing, uh, parallel to me. “Y-you’ll know it when you s-see it,” I replied, and sure enough, there was my misshapen house.

                “Jegus,” Eridan, uh, remarked. “What’s the enormous room for?”

                “C-containing my l-lusus, if you c-can b-believe it.”

                “Not really. I’d have to see it,” said Eridan, in such a way that indicated that he totally, uh, believed it. He looked a bit quizzically. “Say, why do you stutter so?”

                “My teacher and c-classmates would always laugh at me when, uh, I spoke up.” I looked down as I, uh, said it.

                “Well, I don’t need to know why. I’m sure they did for anyone who did anythin’ ‘deviant’. I still don’t get why it’d make a stutter though. It must be somethin’.”

                “I, uh, r-really don’t k-know.” Eridan turned towards me.

                “You’ll have to figure it out,” he stated both seriously and, uh, frankly. “Much of what you do will depend on your ability to communicate.” He, uh, said it so confidently that it sent, uh, a bit of shiver down my spine.

                He started walking towards the door, and I, uh, followed. When he opened it, a sharp cry of, “Well doesn’t that smell like unkempt?”

                I kind of, uh, looked ashamed and went inside. I, uh, hadn’t been really living in my hive since I left it that night two weeks ago. I figured it would be best for me not be seen, otherwise they would have dragged to a, uh, factory to work the rest of my sweeps. But back to the, uh, matter at hand. Needless to say, uh, if you leave your house hurriedly in the, uh, din of night, it’s not going to look very good when you come back. Uh, #lifelessons? That’s really the best I, uh, can do. (That’s also the only time I’m ever using a hashtag. It reminds me, uh, too much, of, uh, how should I put this? Well, someone I don’t like.)

                “This is a right mess. Reminds me of a blue-blood flat, it’s so bad,” remarked Eridan.

                “I, uh, d-didn’t know blue bloods lived in hive-stems.”

                “Some do,” Eridan said, as he gained stock of the, uh, darkened main room. “I’m giving them less credit than they deserve, in terms of how messy their hive-stems are. Of course, understand, giving them any credit at all is quite generous.” I nodded, though I wasn’t, uh, listening. I was more concerned with his overturning of my furniture. As he proceeded to make my hive an even larger mess, he, uh, droned on. “Obviously, as you understand, most of the blue-bloods, er, discountin’ the purples and teals, control various provinces in the Empire. Most dark blues are haphazardly placed throughout the galaxy, ruling planets, or particularly large continents, if it happens to be heavily populated.” I knew all this. He did, uh, know I went to school right? At that moment he went to a couch and began to, uh, pick at it, quite violently. “However, on Alternia, the capital planet, and the most densely populated planet in the galactic supercluster, no high blood, or land-dweller for that matter, would be important enough to solely control the place.” He took out Moonwatcher and began to uh, slice open the fabric of the seat. “Thus, the blue-bloods control much smaller dukedoms, and those with lighter shades of blue, who would normally control that amount of territory, are then relegated to smaller counties and fiefdoms.” Having, uh, destroyed the couch, he went and started examining the wallpaper, which (uh, I never did really pay too much attention) had begun to rip. “Thus, the light-blues are subjected to, though they are quite big, hive-stems, if their jurisdiction resides over a city, especially one like Godthorn, which has close to a thousand boroughs.” He started ripping through the wallpaper, for, uh, some reason which I still don’t entirely understand. “The primary thing to understand here, of course, is that the light blue-bloods are the most exposed to the exploits of the lower classes. They are the most likely to have any sympathy for someone lower on the hemospectrum than their higher blooded counterparts.” He stopped, and looked straight at me. “If a revolution were to occur, they would be our only support in the nobility.”

                It was there where I stopped him. It was, uh, getting too weird, and almost, uh, treasonous. “W-wait, r-revolution? Eridan, what are y-you even, uh, t-talking about?”

                He smiled a small bit, almost sheepishly. “The first book my lusus got me was from the Consolidation.”

                “Weren’t those, uh, banned?”

                “Certainly. It doesn’t mean I still don’t have it. It outlined everything I’ve been sayin’.” He sighed. “Basically, all my life, I’ve been readin’ those stupid books. Either it’s the truth, or it’s gotten into my head, but I want to bring down the Empire, and I don’t know if my lusus planned it this way, but, early on, I dreamt myself as the one who would do it.”

                He looked ever more, uh, insane. “F-first of all, bring down the Empire? What are you t-talking about? The Consolidationists got themselves destroyed, didn’t they? Do you want to, uh, die?”

                He looked at me in the way, uh, he looked at Dikkke. There wasn’t much remorse in those eyes. “And do you think that this is any better? Where a troll of my blood color, refusin’ to submit, is hunted? And where you, little more than a wriggler, are sent off to work at the age of six, while fellow trolls of better birth can lounge and sit on their asses all day? Do they even realize who allows them to do that? It’s not even based on merit. It’s based on birth. That’s what makes it unfair to me. And that’s why I want to destroy the Empire. And if I die while doing it, well, at least I died for something. That’s more than what most trolls can say.”

He, uh, stomped off, looking hurt. The words spoke, uh, true to me though. Granted, he was, uh, insane, and most assuredly with some kind of complex against high-bloods, but he at least made sense. I couldn’t see him, and my hive didn’t have any lights (Electricity, uh, wasn’t supplied to residential hives during the night, while we were supposed to be working. Nor was it given out during the day, when windows allowed us to see. It, uh, come to think of it, wasn’t supplied at all). I sat mulling it over, and then I heard a scream.

“Troll Jegus!” came Eridan, running madly. “You didn’t tell me,” he panted. “That you” another pant. “Stored a monster in your other room.” He composed himself. “Explains why you ran away.”

“Oh.” I realized he had, uh, gone into my lusus’s room. “That’s my l-lusus. Er, uh, Bulldaddy’s his type. “Weren’t y-you, uh, listening when I explained this?”

Eridan gasped. “Quite possibly not. Why don’t we get the boarding passes ready? That’s upstairs, I assume? Away from the gigantic hoof-beast?”

I, uh, laughed. I didn’t really do it that often, come to think of it. Eridan had a way of making it happen, I, uh, noticed. “C-come this way. I, uh, have a program on my computer that can forge the papers.”

We started walking. Eridan mentioned, “I don’t think that too many trolls would have a machine that can create counterfeit materials.”

“T-they don’t,” I, uh, said. “I found the app awhile back.” Truth was, it was the first thing I ever, uh, installed on my computer. I looked, uh, long and hard. Hiding your blood color is a long term investment, and no authority figure overlooks it. A good forgery, uh, can trick them though.

We went into my sleeping block, and I turned on my computer, and Eridan, uh, turned his attention to my mirror. “I do look rightfully horrible, don’t I? My clothes look like they came from a burlap sack. You know, I spent a bit of time on these. Shame to see they turned out so horribly. I can’t imagine really doin’ anythin’ without proper clothes. Perhaps we’ll make a stop off at a clothing store when we get to Godthorn or somethin’.” Did, I, uh, ever mention that Eridan is very pretentious? No? Well, I think that demonstrates it.

“W-we’ll need to be able to g-get in, uh, first,” I said. “Let me see your face.” I took out a webcamera and snapped a picture. “This will let me create the pass. They, uh, don’t like letting in unapproved t-trolls.” 

“That they don’t,” Eridan remarked, as he went back to the mirror. “I’m thinkin’ somethin’ clean-cut for certain, yet I want it to be a bit disheveled. I don’t want to play into Imperial norms entirely. Perhaps a mix of yuppie and artist, or somethin’.”  I just learned to ignore it.

I typed in a few pieces of data, and printed out two boarding passes for Godthorn. It, uh, would normally would have taken near three lunar perigees to get this thing, uh, out. But thanks to my program, it, uh, was all taken care of. It even had a suitable blood color for me, as well as fake names. I did a little more work, and printed out two ID cards. I took out, uh, a real one for comparison. Perfect. Looking over at Eridan, I found him once more at the, uh, mirror.

“A scarf or somethin’ ‘round my neck would go wonderfully, don’t you-” I, uh, cut him off. “W-we’re heading out. It’s all good to, uh, go.”

He nodded, and smiled. “I’m looking forward to this. For years, it’s all been theory. Now I can see what it’s all like.” To be honest, uh, I felt similarly.

We walked out onto the gray streets, and went, uh, towards the tramway that led into Godthorn. I, uh, carried my ID, but it hardly mattered. No one would be out at this time of day to stop us. The Empire, uh, was certainly effective at making the populace work, or, uh, at least they thought they were enough to not have some kind of watchman on the streets during, uh, nightly working hours.

When we got to the station, we were the only trolls in line. A sleeping ticket booth worker was, uh, a bit confused when we woke her. “What? You have passes for Godthorn? Shouldn’t you both already be working there?” This, uh, stumped me, but Eridan took it. “Special orders from Lord Dikkke. He needed us to search for the Witch-Boy.”

That got her attention, and she took our passes. “Oooo. Did you find him? He’s very hard to catch, I hear.  The news says he’s the number one hardest to catch criminal.”

I, uh, was sort of hoping it wouldn’t go to Eridan’s head. I mean, he did seem a bit self-serving, but his ego couldn’t, uh, have been that inflated. It was. Yeah. His eyes brightened up, and he carried his head very straight. “Oh yes. He’s a slippery one, though. We found him, and one of the cars we brought were destroyed. He’s probably the most powerful psychic I’ve ever heard of.”

“Oh my. That’s scary,” shrieked the troll in a, uh, surprisingly nonchalant way. More importantly, uh, she stopped processing our passes. “He got away? That’s bad. I sometimes lose sleep at night thinking about him. Why did your master send you back if you haven’t made the area safe?”

And the worst case scenario happened. Eridan spoke. “Oh, well, after the car went down, I jumped out of mine to save the victims.” He, uh, flexed his muscles. “I pulled them out singlehandedly, and let them live to see another day. Because of my efforts, Dikkke let me (and my comrade here, who is quite useless) go back to our jobs rather than pursuin’ the highly dangerous Witch-Boy of the Forest.” There was enough theatrical flourish to, uh, make an actor cry the bitter tears of pity and self-loathing. That’s, uh, an actual thing actors do on Alternia because, uh, no one watches them perform.

Uh, I had no idea why Eridan was flirting with the ticket booth troll. She was at least ten sweeps his, uh, senior. But she started processing the passes. “Oh dear. You’re a hero. You know, you may be knighted for this.”

“Madam, it was something any other troll would do. I was merely doing my duty to my comrades and lord.” He stood, looking triumphant.

We got our passes, and, uh, we waited to board the tram into the city. The night was nearly over, and I was getting anxious that, uh, we’d run out of time.

“See Tav, the ability to schmooze is one perhaps the best weapon I have in my arsenal. Better than anything I could have in a strife deck. The gift of gab is a powerful attribute,” Eridan remarked.

“I c-couldn’t really notice it over your, uh, desperate attempt at flirting, which is basically all that, uh, w-was. It h-happened to work in our, uh, f-favor.”

“Schmoozin’, Tavros, schmoozin’. It’d be a skill you’d be happy to receive, I assure you. You can play the system much better that way.”

The tram arrived and Eridan and I boarded after showing our tickets to, uh, the official. As we sat down on the metal benches, both of us felt a bit anxious. However, uh, the tram started moving. 

"S-so you're serious about b-bringing down the, uh, Empire?" I asked. 

Eridan looked out the small circular window, and nodded. "I am. And I intend to look for a chance in the city. Mind, I don't expect to bring it down in the course of a night. But I want to see what I can do, and what I can draw from to do it."

That sufficed. We sat in silence for a little.

"By the way, Tav," Eridan said, uh, catching my attention. "There wasn't anythin' ugly about all that whole journey at all." Both of us grinned at each other, knowing that we were heading into the great city of fortune, opportunity, and destiny: Godthorn.


	15. Downwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros and Eridan have a difficult time finding their way into the city proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BABY.  
> Sorry. Schoolwork has a tendency to take priority over leisure writing, even though as a second semester senior plagued by senioritis, there really shouldn't have been any blocks towards this. But there were. Alas.  
> Regardless, I'm back full-on, and I've got a few chapters ready, at least in outline, thanks to the fact that I took down the previous chapter fifteen. After doing some thinking, I felt it would go best after this chapter, since I put a break in the original plan for what you're about to read was going to go. This section really sort of wrote itself, somehow. I didn't really intend for it to go this way at all, but, what can you do? When the characters want to do something, all that one can do is guide them through the stroke of a pen, or in this case, push of a key.  
> Anyways, I'll post up Chapter 16 tomorrow without fail, as it's already done, and I should have Chapter 17 ready to go by Sunday, as that's already started. I'll do my best to get Chapter 18 done by next week, and we'll go from there.  
> You might also note, if you've read this before, I've changed the titles of both the series and the story itself. I'm going to be changing more, specifically the chapter titles, but for now, the confusing changes are over. Like I said about three months ago, the old title just wasn't working out for me. We'll see how this goes for now.  
> Cheers and enjoy!

Eridan

It’ll please you to know that we got into Godthorn station all right. The tram opened up, and we went outside onto an aerial platform.

                “How do we get down?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem to lead anywhere, does it?”

                “I think t-there’s a truss-way which comes in to pick workers up.

I saw a pulsating being ahead. Light and energy flowed through, yet it was inanimate. The people within moved about in a deadened beat, as if in a low rut, which, thanks to the Empire, they were. I looked over at the government Reichstag of Godthorn, and spat at the ever loomin’ statue of the Emperor, which sat quite visibly atop the building. Its finger was held up to the head in the Empire’s signature motion of tacit compliance. The city followed it to the letter, as individuals moved quietly through the streets and alleys, tryin’ to avoid the attention of the Folian, our secret police. The business owners moved into safe zones in the walls, hushed, when the guards came around, lookin’ for their money and a fight. The few lowbloods with a position in the administration remained soundless as they enacted policies which they knew would only hurt their brethren.

                “Uh, Eridan?”

                I continued to ponder the nature of Godthorn.

                “Eridan.”

                What a sorry state for a city, I thought.

                “IT’S THE P-POLICE!”      

And I was thus brought back from the clouds, Moonwatcher in hand. A teal-blooded Legislacerator stood before me. He held her hands up in a gesture of concord. “Peace, young one. Put that down. I would prefer not to cause harm to you. I merely wish to enquire what your presence entails here.”

I put my sword back. “I’m sorry. A group of bandits attacked us on the way.” I lied. This would help deflect suspicion. “I’m still a bit on edge.”

The Legislacerator cocked her head. “Well, if you are here, you obviously won, but not by much. I suppose your mangled outfits show that. But explain to me why you might find them here?”

I didn’t have an answer. “Like I said, I’m on edge.”

She studied us further, apparently intrigued. “So, shall we get back to the question at hand? Why do I find you here?”

Tavros spoke up. “Uh, h-how do we get, uh, down?”

“Hmm. I suppose that is a reason for being up here. But why so late? You look no older than schoolchildren, though because I cannot tell your caste, I don’t know whether or not you should be out of the educational system. And then that raises the question, why would you be late to school? Hmm… Such ponderings…” she mused.

I got the feelin’ she somehow got off on that. Tavros and I looked on awkwardly. Suddenly, the Legislacerator had a moment of brilliance. “Ah! I can solve this one. Your identification please?”

I was at a loss, but Tavros had planned this out earlier, back at his hive. “H-here they are, your g-grace.”

“Why are you holding his, timid one?” she enquired.

Tavros pulled through, miraculously. “Well, uh, he was fighting, your grace. He wasn’t, uh, in a position to hold h-his things.”

                “Fair enough, if your previous story holds true,” she replied, somewhat suspiciously. “Well, everything seems to be in order. I shall take you down to the city from here personally. See, I will have to take you to my office, as forging identification cards is illegal under imperial law.”

                Shit. She got behind us, and slammed us to the ground, puttin’ restraints around our arms. She led us into her Mobile, and we flew off.

                We joined traffic, among thousands of other Mobiles. Mobiles perfected to a large degree the necessity of movin’ quickly in the city while conservin’ space. It could move around the ground like a car, but could fly at the push of a button. It was considerably harder to use than a standard automobile, but got the job done. Not that it helped in reducing the snail pace of traffic in Godthorn.

                Nice as it was to be in all that, me and Tavros were not about to taken in by the government. I nodded to Tav’, and he acknowledged me. At least he was prepared. I waited for a stop in the traffic, and when it inevitably came, I used my telekinesis to force the motion of stoppin’ to slam the Legislacerator’s head into the controls.

                “You think that will get me, witch boy? You must be mistaken.”

Damn, I thought. I figured my strife specibus would only give me one shot with an attack, since my arms were bound. If I could summon my sword in just the right way, I could get our captor through the seat. I did so, and was forced back into mine.

“It should’ve gone right through you!” I yelled, mostly in frustration.

“Metal grating! Don’t think you have been the only rowdy adolescent to be in this vehicle!” she retorted.

Well then. I guess it was go time. I started kickin’ her seat, and Tav’ fiddled with something behind his back as best he could. She started slashing with her knife towards me. I tried head buttin’ her arms away. The Mobile started to dive. In heavy traffic. You really couldn’t have asked for a nicer situation to be in.

In the midst of the chaos, I heard Tavros yell, “Eridan, duck!” Why I needed to do so was beyond me, but he was pretty insistent, in that he used his weight to force me to the ground. I could barely see, but I could make out razor blades springin’ out of the Legislacerator’s chest, spreading blood everywhere. Her knife dropped to the ground. Whew.

“You saved the day on that one, Tav’. What was that?” I asked.

“F-FOCUS ON THE DAMN MOBILE. IT’S FALLING DOWN!” he yelled back.

“SHIT,” I replied. Warning lights flared and the klaxon sounded, making it quite difficult to think. “HOW IN THE EMPEROR’S JUNK DO YOU PILOT THIS THING!?”

“UH, NO CLUE!” he replied. Our arms were bound, so it wasn’t like we had much of the ability to use the controls anyways. “UH, T-TRY HITTING THE CONTROLS WITH YOUR FEET?”

“THAT’S STUPID TAV,” I yelled, incredulously. “ALSO, YOU’RE STEALIN’ MY LINE!”

“IT’S NOT LIKE WE HAVE A, UH, B-BETTER PLAN, R-RIGHT?” he asked.

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT WE DON’T,” I said, jumping in to the cockpit. “BRACE YOURSELF!”

To be honest, I just started hittin’ random buttons. The machine did a couple of flips as it hit a few other Mobiles, bringing them along with us. We started falling towards a small alleyway in flamin’ mass of vehicles. I saw an eject button, and told Tavros to get ready.

“FOR WHAT?!?” he said, hiding under the seats.

“FOR THIS!” I yelled. I kicked the eject button, and we flew clean out of the Mobile, screaming. We both hit the ground rolling, and the ball of metallic flame blew up, sendin’ shrapnel everywhere. A piece flew through my arm, cutting my bindings but takin’ off my left forearm and hand. I was too slow to deflect it telekinetically, for some odd reason. It would happen again many times. I suppose I described that a bit ingloriously, but even with the mess-up, I was still able to block the bleedin' through force of mind, so my slow brain was able to do something to help. Because of that, it wasn’t that dangerous of an injury, though I’d have to get an Automail arm. But that was entirely cheap nowadays, considerin' the number of accidents in the factories. It wouldn’t be too difficult to quickly find a discount vendor.

I sat breathin’ heavily for a bit. “You all right, Tav’?”

“E-eridan, your arm…” he replied.

“It’s nothing, honestly. Come on,” I said, as I forced myself up. I picked up a piece of shrapnel. “Let me get your bindings off.”

I cut them away, and he cracked his neck. “Th-that was a bit intense.”

“Sick is what it was,” I said, smiling and leaning down.

“Y-yeah, it was,” he said, inwardly grinning (I think).

“What was that anyways? Some new trap?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’ve been w-working on a, uh, new d-design since we met. It’s a l-loaded spring with razor blades in it. I don’t, uh, know what to c-call it yet.”

I made a sound that indicated I was impressed. “That’s handy. Make sure to save that invention, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replied. We sat there for a few moments, but then I got up and brushed myself off.

“Well, I gotta get me a new automail arm before we do anything. Not that I’m complainin’; those things can be nice.” A Mobile piece blew up behind me. “Oh, and we’ve still yet to get those haircuts.” Tavros just looked on for some reason, in pure amazement.


	16. Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new troll steps in to explain her view on the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 6/12 everybody! On the 5th anniversary of the Troll's birth, I can only see as prudent to post something to this story.  
> Of course, this chapter should be familiar to anyone who has read this before two days ago, because it's the same chapter, albeit slightly revised. I decided it would be best to put it after the chapter 15 we have in this work now. So, unfortunately, it's nothing new. If you're a returning reader, because as I understand it there are a few of those, the new content was posted yesterday as chapter 15. This chapter 16 is merely a replacement in the overall story. And of course, if you're new to this, as most of you are, you don't need to worry yourself about any of this at all. Enjoy!

Hi there! My name is Aradia Megido, and I’m an ochre-blood. Forgive me if it sounds a bit strange to say my blood color right after my name, heehee. If you don’t already know (you  _are_ sixteen segments in, after all), there couldn't be a thing Alternian culture is more concerned about. Perhaps it’s merely habit at this point when I introduce myself, which, of course, is odd, because I never really thought I belonged to or was a part of it. It just goes to show how much our own desires factor into who we actually are, haha.

So, I suppose we can go forward, can’t we? First of all, I’ve actually jumped the gun. I wasn’t supposed to start speaking until the next segment. Karkat will be quite upset when he finds my voice speaking instead of Eridan’s. He made a whole organizational effort with a “master plan” (heehee) towards this. To be honest, though, it all seems quite pointless to me, which is why I’m messing it all up. I don’t see a point to these recordings. How this will do anything for anybody, I can’t tell. I, or at least who I was, might’ve said time would, but trust me, I’ve had enough experience with it to know. Perhaps he’ll give some insight when he comes to record, but he insists that he has to come on later. That boy. Always up in his little thinkpan mindspace, heehee. Never for the life of me have I understood it.

Now, understand, they expect me to get  _why_ , even though it all seems quite preposterous to me. As such, most of them think I’m a bit weird. I don’t think I am. I just have a different way of thinking and feeling. For example, in the trials, I was so excited to meet my competitor for the second part that I obliterated him on sight, much to the chagrin of the proctor, who ran away (even though she was on a cat walk) as soon as I did. I think I meant to simply show my excitement, but I suppose that happens when you’re a powerful Psionic. Did I forget to mention that? See, I get excited about the oddest things, and those unprepared are in for, at the very least, a shock. I don’t however, do intense introspective thinking, while everyone else does. Hm. Maybe I do classify as weird then. But, moving on.

My Psionic abilities work quite simply. I have both telekinetic and telepsychic abilities, that is, I can both manipulate the physical and spiritual worlds, which is quite rare for a troll. I mean spiritual, of course, in the sense of the energies that underlie our world’s processes. Most with the ability to work with it generally use it to change outlying mental circumstances, or read and change minds, in layman’s terms. In fact, that’s generally the first ability to appear among that type of psychic. I think physical manipulation is quite simple to understand, though if you’re still unclear, it involves the extrasensory manipulation of atoms. This can create a whole host of abilities, ranging from moving things around with one’s mind to creating and manipulating electrical energy within the palm of one’s hand. Granted, however, I’m not individually good at either telepsychics or telekinesis. Kanaya and Eridan far exceed me in their respective domains. However, I understand them the best. Most trolls have these abilities, but never take the time to understand them. My power lies in that I understand them both. Of course, it isn’t just limited to that, heehee. I combine both telekinesis and telepsychics to manipulate the underlying energies in physical structures. I can change atomic structures, have energy flow into or out of a specific area, or even, (when I’m lucky) change the laws of the universe. Or, in layman’s terms, I can make things go boom, really big, heehee.

However, don’t think I use both simultaneously to do what I do. As I understand it, another ochreblood, similar to an old kismesis of mine, possessed what he called the “vision two fold”, which was, of course, a fairly accurate description. He could see into two intrinsically tied universes, his and another’s, and use the other’s energy to manipulate his own. His power lied within duality, whilst mine lies in the combination. Before I can control energy itself, I have to go into a state in which I can access the full potential of both sides of my brain at the same time. Then, somewhat in a trance, I blow the very fabric of the universe apart.

Of course, I don’t think the brain is meant to use that much energy. One of the reasons it feels like a trance is because my consciousness is overwhelmed with the universe’s movement. Most species tend to find a way to ignore it. I hypothesize that’s the reason we don’t use the full capability that our brains give us, because when we do, we become entirely aware. And the universe’s channels are just too much for what our minds can understand and take. Thus, I lose consciousness when I fight. I let the universe carry me to where it wants me to be. I let it do want it wants me to. I let Paradox Space run its mighty course.

But one may ask, what happens to me, heehee? Well, I could say I dream in that state, but that isn’t entirely true. As Paradox Space moves my body, it moves my mind. I see what it wants me to see. The future. The present. The past. Things that could have been. Things that would be. In fact, before I woke up, those visions  _were_ my dreams. Every day when I would sleep, I’d see a slice of Paradox Space. At first, I wouldn’t understand it, but I gradually gained insight (no doubt because I saw myself doing things I’d do the next day, heehee) Because of all this, I generally stayed two steps ahead of my friends and enemies (admittedly there were more of the latter. But I’ll get there). When the Twelve assembled, they’d look to me for advice on what we were to do. For them, I was the seer.

But the funny thing is, I  _am_  the seer.

The Seer of Time.  

 


	17. Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan gets automail for his injured arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It's still Sunday? Okay, cool.)  
> I guess now's a good time to address it. One year ago, I started this story with the intent of making a bloodswap worth shouting about. That goal, now that I think about it, hasn't changed at all. But I think I'm hitting that point in the writing that, if I were to use the analogy of climbing a mountain, I'm realizing that the trail is going to stretch on quite a bit, and certainly further than I thought. That doesn't mean I'm not averse to doing this, but I think a bit more planning will have to go into this story than what I've done thus far, which was basically just jumping in with a general idea on how to proceed. Expect a bit more structure is what I mean to say, I suppose.  
> Anyways, the part that will probably matter to you guys, if you follow this, is what I'm going to do next week. By Friday, I'll have the next chapter up, which has already been started, and by next Sunday, there should be another chapter. We'll play it by ear from there, but otherwise, I'll do my best to stick to my word.   
> Cheers, and enjoy!

Eridan

Trust me, I have no idea what Aradia was thinkin’. The girl can talk, I’ll say that much. She would have narrated the rest of what happened in excrutiatin’ detail. I’m here to break her spiel up a bit. I haven’t even told you all what me and Tav’ did in Godthorn. And there someone is to tell you her life story and ethos. Ha! Nobody likes suspense bein’ broken up, least of all me.

Anyways, after we crashed the Mobile and talked, Tav’ and I got up and began to walk aimlessly.

“Uh, the guards will, uh, be here p-pretty soon,” Tav’ mentioned. He was right, of course. It was pretty hard to ignore a flamin’ ball of metal in the sky. “We should p-probably, uh, get going.

“Right. Where to? I sure as hell don’t know this place.”

“The m-main, uh, thoroughfare is actually, uh, just off this alleyway. But we’ll p-probably want to, uh, stay in the alleys if we want to f-find, uh, cheap automail for your arm.”

We walked a bit further until we saw a small engineer’s shop nestled into the narrow path. Goin’ through beads hung over the entryway, which wasn’t more than just a hole in the wall, I saw the first glimpse of the troll that was to do surgery on my arm. An old looking brown blood, who, legless, had installed a crude spiderlike automail base for himself. It made a creaking, spindly sound as he moved.

“Well, well, some young boys trampin’ about in the middle of the night. Shouldn’t ye’ be at school? Or work, most probably. You don’t look upper class, and it doesn’t bode well for ye’ bein’ so since yer’ comin’ in here. Alright, alright, enough talk. What can I do for ye’?”

This time, I had a story ready. “Sir, my arm was cut off while working at the metal plant. My boss told me to find an automail engineer as quick as I could.”

“Well, ye’ve come to the right place, lad. Lemme see that arm.” I showed him the sliced arm. “Och, that’s lucky. Rarely gets as clean as that. Makes the job a lot easier.” He started to work on the injury, stitchin’ up my stump of an arm. Most automail engineers don’t really do surgery, you understand. Of course, most of the hospitals on Alternia carry at least one engineer, but their job is solely to put the machinery on. They leave the clean-up and sterilization to actual surgeons, and in theory, this was supposed to happen for all trolls, regardless of class. However, in practice, lowbloods could not afford hospital service, and their middleblooded bosses expected them to back on the job as soon as possible when severely injured, preferably the day of the accident, or there would be pay reductions. Mind, of course, everythin’ was supposed come out of the worker’s own pocket, even if the factory’s dangerous equipment had done the injury. Thus, small little shops like the one me and Tav’ were in had sprung up everywhere. Dirt cheap, you naturally couldn’t expect somethin’ high quality, but it got the job done, and the engineers working the places were more than competent at both any necessary clean-up and installation for the lower castes.  

“Alright, seems ye’re just ‘bout done wi’ the stitchin’. Rust blood, yeah? Couldn’t ye’ve just blocked whatever did that wi’ some psychic stuff or another?” the engineer asked. I was askin’ myself the same question. Of course, I couldn’t be expected to be on point all the time. “Anyways, I’ll get somethin’ on ye’. Mind, it won’t be anythin’ fancy.”

He took out what looked like a metal stick with a three-pronged claw attached. “Now, yer’ lucky ‘cause ye’ still have most of yer’ elbow attached. All that’s missin’ is the forearm and hand, which this lovely can handle.” He positioned the machinery near my injury. “Now, laddy, are ye’ actually a psychic? This ain’t special automail, ye’ know. Ye’ cannae use it for your powers, and it’s gonna restrict some a’ yer’ movement. The claw can move up and down, side to side, and the like, even turn roundlike, but it’s not gonna be a normal wrist.” 

“I’m okay with that,” I replied, somewhat begrudgingly. I’d have to find another automail vendor and get something better eventually.

“Now, this is gonna hurt, but ye’ don’t need to worry yer head. I been doin’ this nearly twenty sweeps by now. You there,” he pointed, to Tav’. “Ye’ might want to get out of here. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Tav’ obliged, and the engineer got to work. I realized as he left the walls were stained with blood. “Alright, hold yer’ breath.” And he started. The pain was excruciatin’, and I’m certain I lost enough blood to knock a small hoofbeast out. The main issue, I guess, was installin’ the wiring into my nerves so that it would function somewhat responsively. Then my skin had to be grafted over the beam. I can’t really tell you all the details of the installation; I’m neither a doctor nor an engineer.

Whatever the case, it worked. I had sweated my out my rags to death; I’d need a wardrobe change. But I had a new arm, nasty as it looked. Like I said, it was basically a beam with a three fingered claw attached to a mobile joint connected to a metal beam.

“Now, let me see abou’ the price…” the engineer thought, as Tav’ came back.

“I heard the s-screaming stop. How, uh, is it Eridan?” he asked.

“Pretty good, all things considered. Check it out.” I moved my claw in various directions. Tavros tried not to laugh. He knew it was a far sight from what I had. I guess I was now comin’ to terms with the fact that I had lost my arm. The euphoria of the moment had carried me thus far, but now the pain was creeping into my empty space.

“That’ll be 7000 crowns,” the engineer stated and demanded.

“Uh, sir. W-we don’t have that kind of, uh, m-money.” Tavros knew best when it came to the cash. I remember him takin’ some along from his personal stash when we left the suburbs, but I didn’t know how much.

The engineer sighed, and grinned a bit. “Kinda figured I’d be doin’ this for free.” That surprised us. “If I had a crown for every bit of free work I’ve done… Well, actually, I’d be happy wi’ the actual pay over a single crown!” he laughed. “Don’t worry, lads, no skin off me’ back for this one. I’m just gonna ask that ye’ hear me out a bit, alright?”

We nodded, naturally. “Now, if, I understand it, ye’ both are on the run for some reason, yeah? The looks on yer’ faces tell me that much, and the story you gave me,” he said, lookin’ at me. “Lad, ye’ don’t look like ye’ve worked a day in your life at the plants. Try to come up with something; believable, or at least somethin’ the guards can believe, dimwitted as they are.”

Then he looked at Tav’. “Lad, ye’re hidin’ somethin’ important; I know that much. Your demeanor says it all. The guards don’t like that at all. Try to keep it well, otherwise, ye’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

He looked at both of us, and laughed. “Alright lads, go ahead, and get yerself some cosmetic changes, ‘specially you, rustblood.” I nodded and smiled. “Good luck with gettin’ away lads. If I were younger, I’d try it me’self.”

We walked out of the shop into the darkness, and started to walk towards the light of the main thoroughfare.

“Where to next, Tav?” I asked.

“The shopping d-district, is, uh, j-just up ahead. Eridan?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d he, uh, let us g-go without any cash?”

It took me a bit of time as we walked to answer. “You’d be surprised how many lowbloods are against the administration. Maybe they’re not actively fightin’, but you know. They try to help out as best they can towards they’re brethren, I guess.”

“You r-really think there’s actually r-resistance to the, uh, Emperor?”

“It’s what my philosophy and purpose are based upon.” I replied.

“You’re f-far too, uh, optimistic.” Tavros noted.

I smiled a confident grin. “Perhaps.”

As we walked out into the light of the avenue, we couldn’t have had any idea how quickly my beliefs would get a warrant.


	18. Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia describes her grubhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm not dead. I just didn't know where to proceed after the last chapter I did about two months ago. Whatever the case, here's a new chapter. It's been festering for quite a while now, so I don't know what to expect.

Aradia

Looks like I’ll be hijacking again! Sorry! I have to explain myself before you formally meet me.

Oh where was I… Nowhere, haha! That’s odd. I’ll start at a place where I think you can start to gain an idea of who I am, okay?

When I left the Trial caves victorious, my lusus, shaped like a curly-horned hoofbeast, brought me to a communal hivestem in Godthorn. Most trolls, whether it’s conditioned by the Empire or an actual inborn psychological thing, don’t like each other. It’s why normal trolls don’t like living in clustered environments like cities, and why they’re more likely to have a kismesis rather than a matesprit in a given moment. Not that I’ve ever had either (though I did get close), haha, but I wasn’t so upset with my placement. Contrary to popular belief within my group, I _do_ like people. Perhaps I just have a different way of showing it.

I built my hive as best I could, I guess as a hanging terrace, which was really the only option on a communal hivestem. I can’t really speak to my inner thoughts and hopes as a grub. As I grew up, those were replaced with a desire to see fate, or the Stream of Paradox Space, take the course it was supposed to. Its smooth path became my teacher, friend, and dream. It revealed so, so much, perhaps at times when I shouldn’t have seen, but nevertheless it did.

My first experience with the Paradox Stream was when I killed my lusus. Grubs are known for their lack of control, both physically and mentally, as you’d expect from any species. However, mental control for trolls implies psychic control. Being one of the most powerful psionics, and unaware of the full extent of my abilities, I was quite dangerous. My lusus was a kind and gentle soul, and unlike other lusii attached to powerful psionics, mine had no way of defending herself against me. I was about a sweep old, and she came with food. I was so excited that my abilities sort of unfurled within my mind, like a key opening a lock and allowing a door to open. All my thoughts were directed against her, so a mix of telekinetic and psychokinetic energy flew towards her and expanded in a blast, destroying my hive and killing her.

In that moment, I felt a strange mix of grief and guilt. I understood enough to know what I had done, and I fell to the ground. I suspect the opened door within my mind allowed the Paradox Stream to flow in at that moment, and I saw visions. At first, it was only I at that moment, but then it changed to a wild boy out in the forest, leaning, stupefied, over a dead body bleeding blue blood. It went to another boy among hundreds of females, learning a craft he could never hone. A girl by the sea, admired by an elder within her order. Another boy, pretending normality, hiding a desperate secret. One final girl, atop a throne of pretention and unwilling force. Our streams flowed together and I saw us standing together with another six against the Void’s Silence itself.

I won’t reveal everything I saw, as that would reveal too much, haha. I didn’t understand what any of it meant at the time, and to be honest, at first I thought I was crazy. Only when events that I had previously seen started to pass did I understand my visions.

Once my lusus died, I kept her remains in my destroyed hive, out of attatchment at first, of course, and later because I saw that I would need her corpse. We’d all lose our lusii at some point or another and with good reason; that was sort of a requirement for our session. I guess I was lucky in that mine died so early; there was little grief to be had later on, haha.

Anyways, I remained in the ruins of my hive, and I didn’t leave it for about four sweeps. There wasn’t much to eat, haha, but I managed with my powers. Having the ability to grab a Wingbeast with one’s mind always comes in handy, haha. Otherwise, I was quite terrified during that time. The visions would come without warning and generally reveal something I didn’t want or need to see. As I’ve said, I had no idea what any of it meant, so it seemed like hallucinations. I stayed huddled in a warm corner, terrified of my own thought.

One day, towards the end of the four sweep stint, I saw, through the majesty of the Paradox Stream, my little ruined hive swarmed by the Agency, and myself in danger. I was quite surprised to see that event come to pass. Trolls in black smocks came with weapons bared, prepared to kill me. In that moment, I understood everything. The Paradox Stream was showing me the past and future, and eventually I’d see the tributaries, all the possible timelines, though I had little way of distinguishing between them at first (that made for some interesting moments early on in our story, but more of that later, haha).

Oh, where was I..? Ah, I’d forgotten, haha. Trolls were trying to kill me. I guess the Agency had decided I’d become a threat, and they decided to come after me, apparently believing it would be an easy job, as they only sent two agents. Well, they were right about one thing. Now that I was no longer terrified, I was a threat. I stood up from my corner, and unleashed a blast of psionic energy, frying the troll where she stood. The other took a sort of machete and charged at me, but I pushed him back, out of the hive. That was just the first attack, though. Many more agents came to try and kill me. I developed a reputation, I suppose, since I was fairly clever in my methods of dispatch (Once, I took control of one agent’s mind and had her attack her comrades, haha. It was quite fun to have them take care of themselves without me having to do much). I heard that, for the Agency, this was a sort of great challenge, and if you could escape alive, you’d be lauded when you got back. I wasn’t about to let the Agency have any fun. I made quite sure to kill anyone that came.

Eventually, since a venture to my hive was so deadly, it came to pass that the Agency would dress up traitors to the State, and send them here as a form of execution. I wasn’t prepared to become a tool of a government that wanted to kill me, so I left my ruined hive, and took up residence in a number of abandoned storage lofts in the middle of Godthorn.

There I found an active resistance movement to the State, and became passively involved, in that my residences would varyingly be the “secret bases” of the Godthorn resistance. They had an actual secret rallying point far away from Godthorn, and to keep the heat away from there, they’d tip off the guards and the Agency that one of my lofts was it instead. I could kill any agents that went poking around for them, and live quite peacefully, otherwise. I started studying history quite quickly, for natural reasons, and would laugh at the inaccurate and propagandized accounts of it when I was undisturbed. I’d always be notified of any Agency action, so I lived a pretty well planned and quiet lifestyle, which made it a big surprise when two troll boys my age crashed into one of my lofts with a Transport Mobile. In that moment, I saw a vision. The Stream pointed clearly to our intertwined fates, and our eventual deaths.


	19. An update: In the best way I can think of.

**Blightking**

First things first the name up there ain't an OC.  It's me. The author. Hi.

Alright, so I'm gonna make this quick. Basically, to start off with, I did not lose interest in this work. Half-truth, sort of. I'll run it down for you as best as I can.

So basically, I started school, and this stuff got side-tracked. Like for real sidetracked. Like talk about four months about not even thinking about this. Once Thanksgiving hit, I got some free time and tried writing more. I got about twenty words in that I liked. It was more of a challenge than it had been before, and in that regard, I sort of came to the realization that writing in first person would be too difficult. Characters, aside from their speech quirks, started blending together in my head, and it felt like in order to write this, I'd have to split my personality into twelve, which I can't do. For the next two months, I sort of just left this alone, doing other things.

About a week ago, I made up my mind to delete the thing. I honestly had no intention or desire of continuing to write the story; the process was just too long and too difficult, and it had stopped being fun a long while back. But then, just two days ago, all my good ideas in regards to the came flowing back into me. It sort of reminded me of why I'd started: to tell a cool story about a more or less average Sburb/Sgrub session. So I thought about it, and decided not to continue with the first person perspective. The writing I did in that regard was not up to par with I feel I can do now, and there were the issues I previously described. It deserved a rewrite, which I absolutely intend on doing. This time though, I'm switching to third person, which I now feel is workable for this type of story. I'll let what's currently written fade into the depths of this site, and the new work will, in time, replace the old one. Er, at least that is my intention

So, this is basically what I'm going to do. I'm going to try and write the first few chapters of the rewrite within the next few weeks. If I can't manage it, then it was never meant to be, and I won't pursue this project. If I do, I'll link the rewrite as much I can to this work, and I'll continue working on this story from there on those terms. I'll leave this up for a month after that, and then I'll orphan this. I don't really know how orphaning works, but I'm led to believe that if it can be orphaned, it can be adopted. If anyone wants to try their hand at it, go right ahead. I can't stop you, and this is Hussie's intellectual property anyways. I doubt my rewrite and this would conflict if anyone did want to continue it anyways; the story is in my head and not on here, after all. Use it at your leisure once its orphaned. If orphaning isn't what I think it is, then whatever. It hardly matters to me.

So expect a link to the new work sometime in the near future. If there happened to be anybody that was checking in on this occasionally, sorry for being silent for so long. If it means anything, you'll have a better fic to read as a result (well, I hope).

Cheers.  


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